Anything But That
by Mondie
Summary: Only a month this time! ;) Chapter Eleven: Mush. Pre-warnings of swearing, sex, and slash. Please read and review :)
1. chapter one: pinhead

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter one: pinhead]**

[chapter written: may 4, 2003]

**[author's note: if you didn't read "pretend," then you won't know about pinhead. see, the poor boy swears a lot. since this story is in first-person, there is a lot of cussing in this first chapter. i'm very sorry if it offends you, and if it does, please stop reading. the other chapters will be from the point of view of different boys, and since they'll each have their own personalities and way of speech, the cussing will be present in varying degrees.**]****

**]*[**

September 22, 2003

            _What a piece of shit._

            I stared at the building in horrified awe. The red bricks looked so old that I was afraid to touch them, predicting the collapse of the entire ancient ass establishment. How was this possible? How had I ended up here, at this excuse for a high school? And why, oh, Lord fucking _God_, why was that kid—the only kid in sight—waving at me?

            The boy had a huge afro of brown curls, though his skin wasn't chocolate-colored, but instead the tone of honey. I was vaguely unsure – I had never seen a kid with an afro who wasn't black before. Walking a bit closer to the school, I became newly appreciative of my trademark slouching walk, so that at least I didn't _appear tense. I frowned at my feet as they sliced their way through the dew-covered grass. It was a bit cold for my Birkenstocks, I realized now. But who would have thought it'd be so _cold_ here? I'd never gone a day the last three years without wearing these sandals._

            The waving boy had sparkling brown eyes, and a contagious smile. He grinned at me. "You're Charles, right?" I nodded, grinning back. I couldn't help it. The kid was pretty damn contagious. "I'm Micah, but everyone calls me Mush."

            "Mush?" I questioned, my smile slipping a bit. What kind of fucking nickname is _Mush?_

            "Yeah. I used to eat the stuff all the time when I was younger—even brought it in for lunch on occasion. So the nickname started." He shrugged. "Mush fits me better than 'Micah', anyhow."

            "I guess so," I said slowly. The kid was kinda scary, and I wasn't sure if he was bullshitting me or not.

            "So! Come on in. I'm the official tour guide for your school day today. And it just so happens that your class schedule is identical to mine!" Mush reached into his backpack, a one-shouldered, bulky yellow mass stuffed to the exploding point with books (though he didn't really look the academic type), and drew out a piece of paper. "Here's the printout of your schedule." He handed it to me happily, as if his life had now come to its climax.

            "Hey… quick question…" I said, as Mush turned to enter the school. "Why isn't anyone out here?" I motioned to the deserted grounds. No one was outside—not even a school bus sat in sight. It was really fucking strange. 8:00, and no one was here. Were all they all late or something?

            Mush gave a laugh, so loud and boisterous that I stared. People really shouldn't be that loud, even when there's really no one around to hear them. "School started like twenty minutes ago, ya pinhead," Mush told me. "7:40. On the dot."

            "Oh," I answered. "Sorry. Have you been waiting long?"

            "Oh, not that long—hey!" Mush suddenly lost interest in answering, looking over my shoulder. "YOO-HOO! COWBOY!"

            "Yoo-hoo?" I said incredulously, unable to stop myself. I felt bad about it immediately afterward, but then again I was starting to doubt Mush's sanity.

            The boy Mush had called Cowboy was glaring as he approached the building and us. "I don't got any time to talk to you today, Pussy," he scowled. The cowboy hat on his head looked really fucking out of place next to his impeccably in-style clothing. He appeared a total damned contradiction! I wondered if this was on purpose.

            Mush didn't seem to mind the verbal assault, but kept smiling. As Cowboy passed, he reached out and caught his arm, spinning him to face me. I prayed the cowboy wouldn't kick my ass. "This is Charles, Cowboy," he said happily.

            "Hello," Cowboy said, in mock-courtesy. He rolled his eyes and tried to leave again. Mush pinched his ass, which made Cowboy look all the angrier.

            Mush continued talking, as if unaware of the burning glares from Cowboy. "But I've decided to call him Pinhead."

            "Pinhead?" I started to question, but suddenly the large black double-doors leading into the school burst open.

            "MICAH MEYERS!"

            Mush seemed to lose half of his coloring beneath his tanned skin. "Hiya, Mr. Pulitzer, sir," he said genially, his voice not matching the petrified look on his face.

            "What the _hell do you think you're doing?!"_

            Cowboy eased behind the older man into the decaying building, a grin suddenly lighting up his face. He snickered as he got inside undetected. I suddenly wished I could go along with the strange Cowboy-themed prep.

            "I'm leading around our new student, Mr. Pulitzer, sir," Mush answered, his voice only shaking mildly.

            Another boy stepped out from behind Mr. Pulitzer. "That's not your job, Mush," he said accusingly, his voice nothing but a fucking whine through his nose. "It's _my job!"_

            "Crutchy!" Mush whined. "You _always get to lead around the new students. All I get to do is make copies of tests for teachers." He suddenly laughed. "I figured that if I got to him first, I'd get to lead him around. I heard Mr. Pulitzer telling you about him earlier."_

            "But how could you lead him around?" Mr. Pulitzer demanded. "You haven't got his schedule!"

            "Minor detail," Mush scoffed.

            But I shook my head. "He gave me a schedule, though, Sir," I spoke up. Even if this Mush kid _was losing his sanity, he certainly seemed more fun than the rightful greeter, Crutchy, who looked and sounded as though his nose had been pinched so long it had, no shit, closed itself off. The kid was also leaning on a crude crutch, and while I don't have anything against people less-abled than me, I sure as hell didn't want to be the cause of this poor crutched kid hobbling around throughout the school building all day after me._

            "What?" Mr. Pulitzer asked. "How'd you get his schedule, Micah?"

            "Well, uh… see…" Mush suddenly turned bright crimson, grinding his foot in the ground uncomfortably.

            I looked down at my schedule for the first time. I read the name at the top, my suspicion growing. "Micah Meyers."

            Mush laughed weakly.

            Mr. Pulitzer stared at him. "Why would you give him your own schedule?"

            "Like I had any others on me!" Mush scoffed. He edged toward the school's doors. "Anyway, now he's got it." He looked pointedly at me. "My phone number's at the top. My locker number's right under it." He winked. "See ya, Pinhead!" He blew me a kiss, then darted merrily into the school building.

            "Fairy," scoffed Crutchy.

            "Carlton!" Mr. Pulitzer said, sounding shocked. Crutchy looked at him indifferently. Mr. Pulitzer suddenly gave a loud laugh. "The correct term is 'queer,' or 'faggot'."

            I _hate fucking bigots, okay? My eyes must've bulged. I felt the anger boiling up inside me, right near my stomach, but fought my urges and kept my big-ass mouth closed for once. "Did you say you had my schedule?" I asked stiffly._

            Crutchy turned to me, smiling. I didn't smile back. "Yeah. And we saved you from having to follow around Little Miss Flaming Mush all day." I merely stared at him, remaining silent, stony-faced. Crutchy seemed to lose some of his pizzazz. "C'mon, Charles," he said.

            My shoulders tightened. "The name is Pinhead," I said angrily, pushing past the principal and the boy with the crutch into the building.

            Mr. Pulitzer shouted after me, "Welcome to Apollo's High School for Boys!"

            I sighed. It was going to be one fucking hell of a damn long day. Apollo High School. AHS. Looked an awful lot like ASS to me.

**]*[**

            As it turned out, Mush wasn't in any of my classes all morning. Several other boys with strange names were, though. Cowboy was in my gourmet cooking class, along with a boy called Pie Eater and another known as Snitch. Dutchy, and Racetrack were in other classes, as were Swifty and Bumlets and Itey. It seemed commonplace at the school, and no one seemed to think anything of the fact that I was now calling myself Pinhead. This was strange and fucking disconcerting—no shit.

            Lunchtime finally came, and I followed Crutchy into the cafeteria, looking anxiously about for a chance to lose the fucker. I didn't really know any of the other kids yet, but Racetrack had been just piss-your-pants funny in my calculus class, and seemed to be a lot like me. I flitted my eyes around, looking for the black-and-blue-haired youth. It took a while, but I finally found him, and was surprised to see another familiar head of hair—a large, brown afro—and its owner sitting across from him. I hadn't thought that Mush and Racetrack would be friends. Racetrack had spent the entire calculus period describing his weekend with his girlfriend. At my old school, the gays and the straights had _never sat together, and never would. No way in hell._

            To lose the asshole, I cut my pace to nearly crawling. Crutchy didn't notice, he was so enthralled by his own fucking story! Fuckhead. Soon, he was halfway across the room, still talking to himself. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed over to the Racetrack's table.

            Mush saw me approaching, and elbowed the blond boy beside him happily. The blond boy was Dutchy, I realized, from my literature class. No one said anything as I approached, Mush watching me expectantly. I looked around, then finally cleared my throat as fucking loud as I could.

            "Hi," I said, as the others looked up expectantly. "Mind if I join you?"

            Racetrack looked up and grinned. "Hell, yeah. Dude, your hair fuckin' rocks. Didn't get the chance to tell you in calc."

            Relieved, I sat down and smiled. "Thanks. I haven't combed it in two years," I offered. My hair's curly—long, red curls. I'd grown them out last year. My ma hates it, that's why I keep it long. Unlike Mush's curls, however, which sprang out every which way into a large dome shape, my own curls had grown more limp and more stretched out. They brushed my shoulders now.

            "Really." Racetrack nodded his head, looking impressed. "That's the shit." Race's own hair looked naturally black, though I decided it could have been dyed. The tips of the short locks were bright blue.

            "So. Calc fuckin' sucks, huh?" I offered, immediately feeling at ease with this boy.

            "Oh, _hell yeah," Racetrack answered._

            Mush was watching us jealously. "So how are you getting along with Crutchy?" he interjected loudly. At the sound of the name, the other boys at the table groaned.

            "Man, what a fuckin' _prick," Racetrack vocalized._

            "Yeah. No tolerance whatsoever, man," Dutchy said. He was very soft-spoken, but now that I was getting a closer look at him and his half-closed, heavily-lidded eyes, I wondered if instead he was into drugs.

            "I can't stand him." I searched the cafeteria, finally spotting Crutchy seated next to the cowboyesque boy from before school. Cowboy was talking halfheartedly to him. A few other boys were seated with them that I recognized—David, from calc, and Jake and Spot, from PE. "Thank God I got rid of him for lunch, at least."

            "Let's see your real schedule," Mush said, holding out his hand expectantly. I handed it to him cautiously. "Ooh! We have choir together! That's fun, Mrs. Drizzle is a real pushover. Oh, and band, too! What instrument do you play?"

            "Percussion," I answered, looking at his plate. I wasn't too damn sure that I wanted Mush bringing up the fact that I'm in band. What if all these people—the only real hope of friends that I had—thought me an ultimate fucking geek like Crutchy?

            "Hey, percussion? Me too," Racetrack said, hitting me on the shoulder.

            "Me, too!" Mush said, glaring a little at Racetrack.

            "I'm a tuba," offered Pie Eater, who'd just joined the table with his plate.

            "Clarinet," Dutchy said slowly.

            I grinned. "Is band cool around here and shit?" I asked hopefully.

            "Aw, _hell no!" Racetrack answered. "But that's why we like it."_

            "Exactly," Mush said, nodding emphatically. "Everyone who sits at this table's in band."

            "Hey," I said, dropping my voice. Mush and Racetrack drew closer to me to hear. "What's with the stupid kid with one eye?" I pointed at this total dweeb kid wearing an eyepatch, who'd just entered the cafeteria. "I bet he's friends with that shithead Crutchy. They probably compare their injuries and whine about it to each other." I smirked at the two, expecting them to do the same.

            Racetrack's eyebrows shot upwards, and Mush pushed back away, looking a bit angry. "We don't make judgments around here, Pinhead," he said nastily. I was taken aback by how downright fucking _mean he could sound. "And you'd be wise to do the same." He shoved back his chair and stood up, walking from the table to the dark-golden haired, one-eyed boy._

            "What'd I say?" I asked Racetrack.

            Race shrugged. "You just made fun of the love of his life, that's all."

            "Oh." My face fucking burned hot red. "If he's so in love though, then why is he hitting on me?"

            Racetrack snorted in laughter. "Cuz Kid Blink's straight. Mush has decided, though, that if he gets a boyfriend and parades around in front of Blink, Blink will suddenly realize that he too is gay and they can live a nice, long—though not federally recognized—unified life together."

            "You mean he doesn't really like me?" I asked, for a moment feeling kinda deflated. Then I thought about what I'd just said. "What the _hell_ am I saying? I'm fucking straight!"

            Racetrack, Dutchy, and Pie Eater burst into laughter. Mush came running back over, dragging Kid Blink with him. "What'd I miss?" he asked eagerly.

            "Nothin', Mush," Race answered.

            Mush shoved Kid Blink down in a chair, and sat on his lap.

            "Get offa me!" Blink insisted, halfheartedly attempting to push Mush away. He held the air of defeat about him, as if he was so fucking sick of this act that he was now putting up with it.

            Race turned to me. "Mush and Blink are best friends."

            "And future boyfriends!" Mush sang out, as Blink succeeded in shoving him off his lap. Mush landed with an "oomph!" on the floor. He pulled himself back to a standing position.

            Kid Blink lowered his head so that it was level with the tabletop, and began pounding it upon the cheap plastic surface. "Shaddup, Mush," he moaned. "I've got a _girlfriend."_

            "Not for long!" Mush insisted. He caught ahold of his own tshirt and pulled it teasingly upwards, exposing his lower torso, which was covered in bulging abs. I stared. Mush certainly hadn't _looked so good-Lord-fucking __ripped earlier. "How can you __not want this?" Mush demanded, grabbing hold of Blink's head by the hair and pulling it up so that Blink had to look at his chiseled stomach._

            Blink shook his head loose from Mush's grip. "Mush, I don't like you like that," he said, exasperated.

            Mush was staring at him in adoration. "Whatever, darling."

            "Don't call me darling."

            "Fine!" Mush yelled, finally seeming to get annoyed with Blink's stand-offish behavior. "I'll call Pinhead darling, then!" He flashed his terrific smile at me again. Shit, that kid can smile. "Heya, darling."

            "…Mush, I'm straight," I told him.

            Mush let out a brief scream, as if being strangled, and grabbed the ends of his hair. It was meant to be a show of how exasperated he was, but it was really just really, really fucking funny. This guy was just about the most hilarious guy I'd ever met. "You're not even bi?" he asked. I shook my head. He let out another of his short screams. "What's _with_ all you boys and your love of… girls?" He said the word 'girls' as if it were a sin. "Good gracious, Dutchy, we're about in the minority now."

            "Guess so," Dutchy answered, yawning.

            "Speaking of which, Dutchy, where's your bitch?" Racetrack asked.

            "I dunno," Dutchy answered, looking around as if he hadn't noticed the absence of his lover before. "I haven't seen him."

            "There he is," Mush said, sounding relieved. He looked at me, sniffing, and said, "This is the proof that I am _not the ultimate flamer here at AHS. Behold… Specs!" He pointed across the room. I turned to look._

            A boy who looked only slightly interested in what others were thinking of him was striding toward the table. He had on black leather pants and a light pink tank top, the collar and sleeve-lines of which were glittery and shiny with pink sparkles. "New York City" was written in fancy white script, and those words too were sparkly. Oakley sunglasses were shoved neatly up into his hair, and Banana Republic flip-flops decorated his feet. Sparkly pink eyeshadow stretched from his eyelashes to his eyebrows, and he had dark pink lipstick on. His brown curly hair was highlighted with pink and green streaks, and he was sashaying as if for a runway in Paris.

            "Good fucking God," I couldn't help exclaiming.

            Beside me, Racetrack grinned. "Exactly what I say every fuckin' time I see him," he laughed.

            Specs made his way around the table, planting himself in Dutchy's lap and giving him a long, lingering kiss. People at other tables immediately began whispering to each other. Dutchy and Specs appeared oblivious. Mush looked at the whispering crowds and looked incredibly jealous.

            "What'd Pulitzer say to you this time about your makeup?" Snitch, from my gourmet class, and who'd joined the table not long before, asked with a huge grin. Sitting next to him was a boy with heavy eyeliner on, in dark raccoon-related circles around and around his eyes. He was wearing all black, with lots of silver jewelry. He had a barbell going through his chin, and roughly twelve more piercings that I could see. Snitch called him "Skittery". I couldn't decide whether they were _with each other, or just with each other._

            Specs shrugged indifferently. "Who cares about what Pulitzer said?" he asked, and he had a very fake British accent. He kissed Dutchy again, his hands teasing the blond's hair. He turned to Mush. "Don't you think his hair would just look a_dorable with red bangs?"_

            "And the rest spiked?" Mush chipped in, sounding excited.

            Blink rolled his eye. "Here they go again," he sighed.

            "I am _not dying my hair," Dutchy put in._

            Specs suddenly caught sight of me. "Good Lord," he breathed. "Fresh meat?" He looked sideways at Mush. "He looks your type, Mush."

            Mush shook his head sadly. "Straight."

            Specs shook his head, too. "What a sin. He would look so good next to you, too. Try again."

            "Be my lover?" Mush asked me sweetly.

            "And I'll cover you," Specs murmured. This distracted me so much that I didn't even answer Mush.

            "Huh?" I asked, real eloquently.

            "Specs can relate like everything back to a Broadway play," Pie Eater explained.

            "Rent, 'I'll Cover You,'" Specs said lightly. Then he rested those pink-ringed eyes on me again, looking satisfied. "And your answer?"

            "Oh!" I answered. "Like he said. I'm a fucking straight guy." I grinned, looking as friendly as I could.

            "Shame," Specs said dryly. He turned back to Mush. "He really _would_ look cute on your arm, ya know?"

            "I know," Mush sighed. "Can you imagine playing with those curls of his?"

            "Yeah," Specs agreed. "I wish Dutchy would get a perm." Dutchy looked half-asleep and didn't comment. "And so red, too. I love redheads. I wonder if he's feisty in bed."

            "I'm fucking right here!" I couldn't help but exclaim.

            Both boys ignored me, continuing to talk about how cute Mush and my prom pictures would be. "But what color flowers would you get that would go with both your complexion and his hair?" Specs wondered.

            Racetrack grinned. "Mush said you're in choir next, right?" he asked, standing up.

            "Yeah," I said.

            Race laughed. "You can come with me. Let's ditch Crutchy… not to mention the HomoBrigade here."

            "I heard that!" Mush squawked. Beside him, Dutchy had suddenly gone into a rendition of "We're Off to See the Wizard". Snitch and Skittery were looking at a notebook of chemistry notes together. Pie Eater, who I supposed got his weird-ass name from liking the dessert, was looking at a piece of cake on Mush's tray with reckless abandon. Now Specs had joined in singing with Dutchy, but in harmony. Mush got up to do a little jig to the a capella song, while Kid Blink rolled his eyes to high heaven and sighed as though he was releasing his entire fucking soul.

            I couldn't help but laugh the shit outta me. This day was starting to look a hell of a lot brighter.

            Race and I headed for the doors, but Mush let out a shout. "Wait! Wait!" I turned around. "I've still got your schedule," he said, and ran toward me. I held out my hand, and he handed it to me, then fucking kissed my cheek! I burst into laughter.

            "Queer!" I yelled after him jokingly, as he skipped back to his table.

            "Jackass!" he yelled back, grinning madly at me.

            And, God damn it all, that kid can smile.

**]*[**

**Before you jump to conclusions  
About all the friends I have  
Just remember they were born that way  
**[new found glory's something i call personality]

**]*[**

**[please review!]**


	2. chapter two: specs

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter two: specs]**

[chapter written: may 5-7, 2003]

**]*[**

September 23, 2003****

            I stood looking in the mirror, angling my body from side to side. I loved this outfit, no ifs or maybes. The green plaid pants were suctioned to my legs so that it was hard to pull them on and off, but they looked _so good_ on my long, lanky limbs. I'm one of those people who never works out and never gains weight. Unlike Mush, who has the body of a _god, if I _were_ to work out, I'd only look ridiculous._

            Paired with the plaid pants was a black mesh tank top, over a bright yellow solid muscle shirt (the lack of muscles underneath said shirt was not really of any concern). The yellow shirt had "Women. Can't live with them, or with them" written on it in big block letters with a Sharpie marker, the result of an exceptionally boring study hall. I'd put on just about every necklace I own, and was quite elaborately painting streaks of temporary gold hair mascara into my curly brown (and green and pink) hair when I sensed someone else's presence. I arched my thin, perfectly-shaped eyebrows at the mirror, making out the vague reflection of my mother leaning against the doorframe, staring at my reflection over my shoulder.

            "What are you wearing today, Jason?" she asked, and her voice dripped with disdain. I came out to her a few months ago, and she still won't accept it. She swore then that as soon as I turn eighteen, she's gonna kick me out of the house. I responded to her that all the bleach she puts in her hair must've seeped into her brain. She backhanded me for that one.

            I didn't answer this time. Like she couldn't see for herself. I rolled my eyes, instead, painting a final stripe among the other colors in my hair. I grabbed my fake eyelashes and their glue, and set to work stamping them in place. "The name is _Specs," I reminded her dryly, finally._

            She scoffed. "You don't even wear glasses."

            "Contacts," I said loudly. As if she needed me to tell her; she already had a conniption every time I needed to reorder the things. "Besides, what do you call these?" I gestured to my sunglasses, which were currently resting upon my forehead until my hair dried.

            "Sunglasses," she said stubbornly. "Or, what do you kids call them nowadays? Shades?"

            I groaned. "Debra, you're stuck in the nineties," I told her.

            "Don't you call me Debra," she said warningly, reaching out a finger and poking me in the arm, as if this somehow substituted for the hugs and affection we used to share. "You used to call me Mom."

            "Yeah, and I used to let you call me Jason," I said. "Things change." I finished with the eyelashes and picked up my foundation. I touched my cheek experimentally, and was pleased to find my moisturizer had set in by now.

            "You know you sound ridiculous with that accent. Everyone knows you grew up here in America. Most of the kids in your class have known you since preschool."

            I smiled to myself, pouting my lips and decorating them with a coral lipstick. "I like talking this way, okay?"  For once, she let the subject of my British accent drop, and instead picked up a demanding question about another habit of mine she hated. I began to feel like a contestant on _20 Questions. Or _Are You Really, Really Sure You're Gay?_._

            "Why do you insist upon wearing makeup?" she asked, as if her son's flamboyant self-expression personally pained her. _Yeah. Like you even see me during the day, anyway. Really, Debra._

            "Because I want to." I pushed my sunglasses into my hair, then put on my foundation, and a powder over top. I applied blush before finally turning my eyes to hers in the mirror. "Anything else I can get for you, _Mom_?" The over-exaggerated word seemed to escape her ears somehow.

            "Jase, where'd you go?" she asked sadly. "You're not the little boy I used to love." I remained silent, applying liberal amounts of gold eyeshadow and a matching eyeliner. These looked _quite fantastic next to the lipstick and outfit, I might add. "Why… why are you so…" She fell silent, glaring with hatred at this freak who'd taken the place of her over-affectionate son of just a year ago._

            "So what, Debra?"

            "So…" She cut herself off again, but now was staring with great abhorrence at my platform black boots, the ones that had bright purple shoelaces.

            "So gay?" I suggested. Tears sprang to her eyes.

            She shook her head. "You're not gay. You're not!"

            I rolled my eyes again, turning to face her, flipping off the lightswitch. "Debra. Dutchy is my boyfriend. I love him. I kiss him, and hug him, and fuck him. If that's not being gay, than what is?"

            She wouldn't leave the doorframe, and indeed blocked my exit. "I don't believe you!" she shrieked. "You're my boy! You're going to meet a nice girl, and fall in love, and get married, and have my grandchildren, and…"

            I batted my extensive eyelashes at her, brushing past. "Don't lose your head," I said over my shoulder. I finished the phrase in my mind: 'Cuz every night, who's in your bed?', from the best Broadway musical ever, RENT. I wished she would ask me that very question, so that I could answer Dutchy. Just to piss her off further.

            Debra and I were real close last year. She just… can't deal with the fact that I'm gay. And I'm okay with that, really. I should've known she'd deny it. She denied the fact that Dad left us for a good ten years.

            I grabbed my bookbag—a nice, outrageously hot pink little number—and headed for the front door, nearly tripping on my cat in the process. He's a little furball of a kitten. I was gonna name him Dutchy, but his black fur convinced me to name him Mr. Mistoffelees instead. I gave him a kiss goodbye but set him back down quickly. No cat hair needed on _this_ outfit. I headed down the front walk, ignoring Debra's incredulous squawks behind me, and set out for school. I don't have a car, but I didn't mind that, either. I like my walks. I slipped on my headphones, and the welcome first guitar stains of RENT greeted my ears.

            There were only minor incidents of any vague importance on the walk to the school; then again, they weren't _all that important. Just a few homophobes bashing me. Nothing I haven't heard before—though one did throw a glass bottle that nearly creamed me. Jackass. Even worse, it was in the middle of Angel's "Today 4 U" solo, and I missed my favorite part._

            Inside the building, I edged around the principal's office. See, the principal, Pulitzer, has it out for me. He's well-known as a gay-basher, and he's mostly the reason why I wear the makeup… he's such fun to agitate. But today, I wasn't in the mood for showing up the authority figure. I headed to the senior hallway, but only to drop off my books from last night's homework in my locker and pick up my morning ones. I pretended not to see the usual sneers, the points and stares, and headed back down the hallway, ignoring the whispers following my every step. I nearly made it, too, but then Snipeshooter and Jake, two of our school's biggest asswipes (not to mention gay-bashers), stopped me in my tracks. Wearing identical grins, they puffed out their chests in my direction. Both were wearing gigantic rainbow-shaped and -colored stickers on black t-shirts, and had used letter stickers to spell out 'Dutchy' on Jake's chest, and 'Specs' on Snipeshooter's. I raised my eyebrows at them.

            "Nice fashion," I said simply, attempting to shove my way past them as I'd done to my mother that morning.

            "Wait! He's Dutchy. Don't you want to fuck him?" Snipeshooter asked, pointing at Jake.

            I looked at Jake, who's this sad excuse for a redneck. "Somehow, Jake doesn't look at all desirable to me," I answered candidly. "But, really, fellas, I love the shirts. It's nice that you're finally starting to grow brains." I gave them a giant grin and then hightailed it past them, glad neither of them saw my red-hot face begin to flush with humiliation. Angry tears burned in the back of my eyes, but I forced them down, telling myself it didn't matter. They were just idiots who didn't know what they were doing.

            But they did know.

            Of course they did.

            Being stone-cold and not letting people see how extensively they hurt you is the hardest thing in the world. But I'm good at it. I'm real good at it.

            I nearly ran to the hallway I hang in, the one opposite the band room. Already there was Mush, in his impeccable Gap fashions and as adorable as ever; Skittery, in his usual black and looking as depressed as if Snitch had left him; and Racetrack, whose hair was now entirely blue as opposed to the tipped style he'd been sporting since last June.

            "Fantastic hair," I greeted him.

            "Thanks, fuckhead!" he said back, sounding ecstatic, chipper, and _very_-unRacetrack. Well, the swearing was Racetrack. But the exclamation point was completely out of character.

            "Whoa, Little Orphan Annie. How much sugar have you had this morning?" I asked, staring at him.

            Mush grinned sheepishly. "I gave him my double-caffeinated French-vanilla cappuccino."

            "What?" My eyebrows shot upwards. "You _love_ your morning cappuccino, Mush."

            Mush sighed dramatically, leaning against Skittery, who eyed him cautiously out of the corner of his black-rimmed eye without moving. "I wasn't thirsty. I guess I'm all filled up with love," he said.

            "And what trashy romance novel did you steal _that_ cliché from?" I asked, dropping my bookbag against the wall.

            "_Passion of the Heart_," he answered, glaring. "And it's _not trashy. It's poetry. In prose form."_

            I laughed. "You are a real weird kid. Anyhow, Diana, who are you in love with today?" I asked, noticing one of my purple shoelaces had come undone and leaning down to tie it.

            "Who else?" Mush sighed, putting a hand on his forehead and pretending to swoon. "Pinhead."

            "I thought he was straight?"

            "Oh, he thinks he is."

            "Ooh, just _look at that ass, Dutchy." I didn't have to turn around to hear The Obnoxious Twins behind me. Mush took in Jake's and Snipeshooter's shirts, and looked at me in surprise. I rolled my eyes at him, clearly displaying my current loathing of their idiocy. But I didn't get up from my hunched over position, tying my laces—if they wanted to stare at my ass, I supposed I'd let them. It _did_ look fabulous in these pants, anyway._

            "Don't you just wanna pinch it, Specs?"

            "No! I can't pinch my own ass!" A pause, as he pinched his own butt in a very exaggerated action, then a highpitched giggle. "Oh, look! I just did!"

            "Oh, my Lord God," Racetrack said. "What the hell are you asses doing now?!" I was a bit relieved. That sounded more like Race.

            "Nice hair, Fagtrack," Snipeshooter snapped.

            "Good one!" Jake said.

            "Thanks, bro!" A deafening sound which was either a very loud slap on the ass or a high five.

            "Anyone else getting the feeling they're stuck in an episode of _Queer And Hiding It_?" Mush shouted loudly, looking pointedly at the duo.

            "You know you want this, butt-fucker," Jake said to Mush. He attempted to grab the straps of his overalls, but since he had the black shirt on over his overalls, he couldn't grasp them. This made him look vaguely surprised. I found it incredibly funny.

            However, Skittery had to hold Mush back. Mush doesn't mind it when _we_ make fun of him for being gay—especially since some of us are gay, too. But he can't tolerate people making fun of him who aren't his friends. He's a very passionate, and very emotional boy. Quite an explosive combination. "Lemme at him!" he shouted, clawing and snarling. "Lemme at him!"

            Laughing, the two idiotic boys danced off down the hallway.

            "At least they're gone," I said, staring after them.

            As I turned back around, I noticed Mush looking intently at the back of my plaid pants. "They were right about your ass, though, Specs," he said, his eyes darting up to mine as he gave me one of his fabulous smiles. "Those pants are just delicious."

            I laughed, then saw Dutchy coming slowly toward the band room. I ran to him, kissing his lips lightly. He kissed back, and this relieved me. The last few days, I'd been worrying that he was going to break up with me or something—he had been acting so unresponsive. I put my arm around his waist comfortably, and his hand snaked across my shoulders. I couldn't keep the happy grin off my face.

            "You look cute today," he said, looking at my outfit.

            I was smiling so hard I thought I'd burst. "Same to you," I said graciously, though he was wearing the same ripped up jeans and dark blue hoodie he always wears. But just in case you cared, Dutchy's the only male I know whose ass can look delectable in nondescript, baggy, ancient jeans. My man's got buns of steel. No joke. He bought me the video for my fifteenth birthday.

            Suddenly Mush let out a shriek of delight, and seemed to be going into convulsions. I looked over in alarm, remembering the heat stroke he'd had the first time he saw Bumlets, but relaxed immediately when I saw the reason—Pinhead had just turned the corner, talking animatedly with Blink. Mush raced over, stepping between the two, and turning not to Blink, but to Pinhead. This was extremely out of character, and even Blink looked confused.

            "You are the love of my life," Mush said, fluttering his eyelashes unabashedly at Pinhead… I think I should mention that Mush is the ultimate drama-queen of the universe.

            Pinhead burst into laughter. It was obvious that he liked joking with Mush. And I wasn't so sure that he was straight—he just_ had_ to be at least bi. Maybe he didn't know it, himself. Swallowing hastily, he answered, "You fuckin' hardly know me! And you say you _love_ me? Although _I_ hardly know _you."_

            "What do I need with love?" I interjected. Everyone looked at me expectantly, to finish off with my usual recap of whatever musical it was. I smiled. "Thoroughly Modern Millie, 'What Do I Need With Love?'"

            Dutchy responded with a slight nuzzle of his nose to my cheek. I was surprised and happy for his nurturing touch, and kissed him. I didn't even mind that his tongue was most likely disturbing my hot, coral lipstick.

            "Doesn't that give you ideas about us?" Mush asked Pinhead, and I was sure he was gesturing to Dutchy and me wildly.

            "Oh, yeah. Ideas that I sure as _hell better not be near you when they're fucking," Pinhead answered. He laughed again. Mush laughed too, but it wasn't his usual loud, hyperactive giggling fit. I noticed Blink exchanging confused looks with Race, and I knew what they were thinking. Could Mush be changing himself for this boy? Was he really seriously going after Pinhead? And I knew from experience that if Pinhead refused to see himself as gay, Mush would be setting himself up for one hell of a heartbreak._

            "Hey," Pinhead suddenly said. "Mush, what did you do to my schedule yesterday at lunch?"

            "Nothing," Mush said innocently, twirling one of his curls around his pinky finger and grinning.

            "Then why is there a neat little box cut out of my schedule where my phone number used to be?"

            "I haven't the faintest," Mush answered, looking at the ceiling. Pinhead reached over and pretended to strangle him. Mush giggled loudly, swatting at Pinhead's hands in a very flirty fashion. Pinhead seemed to realize this and drew his arms back, but the damage was done. I could practically see the stars, hearts, and glitter flying out of Mush's eyes.

            Mush had of course tried many ploys over the past year to try and convince Blink that Blink was just as flaming gay as Mush himself, but had never gone this far. And I'll be damned if that wasn't a look of betrayal written right across Blink's expression. An interesting observation.

            But Dutchy's lips were a much more interesting observation.

            More tasty, too.

**]*[**

            The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. That is, until symphonic band rolled around. Band is the last period of the day, and can be quite the snoozing period. I play the French horn, and Dutchy, a clarinet, sits all the way across the room. I pouted at him, and he pouted back. I was in heaven. His adorableness almost made up for the jackass he'd been all weekend and yesterday.

            The percussion section was another fun sight. Race, Pinhead, and Mush were all in it. Pinhead and Race—who appeared to be well on their way to becoming best friends—were joking and laughing about the lack of percussion equipment our poor cheap school owns. They were sharing a snare drum. Mush had traded Bumlets (the one he used to crush on… Bumlets is one of those outsider kids who's quiet and who you always wonder if he's secretly planting bombs throughout the school for a Columbine-type massacre) for the bass drum part so he could stand next to the other two, and was looking at them with the most jealousy I've ever seen him harbor, save the fits he has over Blink's girlfriend, a pretty little thing named Christa who goes to the public school a few blocks over.

            Snitch, who sits behind me, in the trombone section, kicked the back of my chair. "What's up with Mush?" he asked. Since he hadn't been in the hallway before school, he wasn't all that clued in. "He seems different."

            "He's trying to convince Pinhead to be his fag," I answered, licking my lips toward the clarinet section, looking pointedly at Dutchy. Band-flirting is such _fun_.

            "Oh." Snitch sat back, then leaned forward again. "Does Skitts look all right to you?"

            I looked over at Skittery, who seemed half asleep behind his bass clarinet. Sometime during the day, he'd used a black felt-tip pen and had drawn a single black tear on his cheek. It actually looked quite beautiful. "Same as he always does," I shrugged.

            Snitch looked upset. "I think things are starting to heat up at home. He's been real depressed lately."

            "Snitch, he's _always real depressed," I pointed out. "Did the black clothing not clue you in?"_

            He rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do that that's all an act." And I had to nod. Last year, Skittery had gone all year wearing a pair of green-and-purple polka-dotted shoes, just to make everyone talk. Then this year, he'd decided to turn gothic—but really, only poser-goth. He acts all depressed, wears black, and obtained about thirty piercings (even _I_ don't know where most of them are. And I'm the guy that everyone tells everything to). But just get him drunk, and he's as happy and delightful as he was all last year. "Just look at him. Doesn't he look sad?"

            "Yeah," I said, because it was what Snitch wanted to hear.

            He knew what I was doing, and started in with his lecture tone. "In case you didn't notice—"

            "There ain't any more!" I gleefully cut him off, simultaneously wiggling my eyebrows at Dutchy.

            "What play?" Snitch asked dully.

            "The Producers, 'Goodbye!'!" I answered happily. I eyed the conductor, a feeble-minded man named Mr. Kloppman. He was practically asleep as he waved his little conducting wand around. Edging around slowly in my chair so that he didn't notice any sudden movements, I rose up halfway and pinched my ass at Dutchy, who grinned back at me.

            "Queer, stop flirting and play your part," David, Cowboy's sidekick and our school's resident prick, snarled. He's also first chair French horn. Loser. I bet the idiot actually _practiced for auditions. Everyone knows only band geeks actually practice. I bet he's got all his scales memorized and everything. David's a real overachiever._

            "You're just jealous," I sang, but put my lips to my instrument and blew loudly into it, not particularly caring what notes I was playing. The sudden blast of sour, clashing sounds nearly scared old Kloppy off his little stool. Mush went into a giggling fit back in the percussion section. I glanced at Dutchy, and he was laughing at me too. His eyes darted around and, seeing that everyone was looking at me and no one would notice him, he grabbed a strong hold on the end of his clarinet and made some _very dirty suggestive movements, using its barrel as a prop. My jaw dropped open, and he laughed harder._

            Have I mentioned that I love band class?

            And Dutchy?

**]*[**

            "Mind if I walk home with you?" Dutchy's soft voice startled me. I looked at him, a bit surprised.

            "You wanna walk home with me? What about your car?" I asked.

            He shrugged. "I'll convince Mom to drive me back tonight to get it." He grinned, looking more relaxed than I'd seen him in some time. "C'mon. You know you want my company."

            "Of _course I do!" I answered, slamming my locker closed and swinging my backpack onto my shoulders. I held out my hand, and he took it in his own, lacing his thin fingers through mine. I nearly squealed in happiness. Seriously, he is _so_ cute._

            Only one more last meeting with the Idiot Duo (aka Snipeshooter and Jake) before making it out the front doors. The first five minutes walking were in silence. I didn't mind. My brain was on RENT, and how a touring company would be performing it that weekend in the next big town over. Dutchy and I had awesome seats to it. I was nearly at the bursting point with ecstasy.

            "Hey. I think that we need to arrange a heart-to-heart," Dutchy said.

            I frowned. "A bit paraphrased, but… Kings don't need advice from little hornbills for a start."

            He seemed a bit wary suddenly. "Specs, don't."

            I ignored him. "The Lion King, 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King.'" I stared pointedly at him. We'd always loved listening to the Lion King Original Broadway Cast recording together, and sometimes with Racetrack. For some reason, Race always found the Broadway version of Timon particularly intriguing, and would listen to him sing for hours, his eyes closed as he swayed back and forth.

            "Stop it, okay?" he said, and he pulled his hand away from mine. "Look, what I wanted to say is… well, do you remember our first night as… as an us?" I looked at him and tested a grin. I grabbed back his hand, squeezing it tight. That night had been wonderful. My first time with a boy, his first time with a boy. Neither of us had known what we were doing, we hadn't even known we were gay… it had helped that we'd been drunk off our asses. Thirteen years old, drunk on half a beer, and fucking each other until the alcohol dripped from our pores like sweat. "Well… how did we really know that that was what we wanted? Why was it right? What _was it about that night?" he asked._

            "Connection in an isolating age," I sang lightly. "For once, the shadows gave way to light…"

            "Specs!" he shouted, twisting his hand loose again.

            "RENT, 'What You Own,'" I said, raising my eyebrows and taking his hand back.

            He practically broke my arm while grabbing his hand back. "Stop it! I'm trying to talk to you!"

            Outraged, I grabbed it back. "What the fuck is your problem? You've been so terrific all day long. And now what?"

            "It's wrong. This is all wrong. _We did everything wrong." He pulled his hand away again_

            "Where did we go right?" I interrupted. Grab hand.

            He turned to me, and an unusual flicker of anger and annoyance sparked out of his eyes. "Specs! Fucking stop it!" Snatch back hand.

            "The Producers," I said, unable to stop myself. Grab hand. And, I admit it, I was a bit excited by this little tender seedling of emotion sprouting in Dutchy. Usually he's unmovable. " 'Where Did We Go Right?'"

            He looked like he wanted to shake me or something. "Specs… I don't know. I don't think this is working out. I mean… I don't know."

            "What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked, suddenly forgetting this new game of Annoy-Dutchy. He sighed. "No, Dutchy, what the fuck are you saying?" His hand slipped from mine as I stared at him.

            "I… I fell in love this weekend," he said weakly. "With… a …" He cringed and turned away from me. "A girl. And… and it was _right_. And I realized that… I never really loved you. I thought I did. But it wasn't love, whatever the hell it was. It was glitter and glitz and pain and suffering and I felt like such a _martyr, but all I was, was a damn __fool! This day, ya know how you were saying I was acting different? It's because I don't care what you think anymore! I… I was giving you one last day with me, as lovers. I'm… I'm… I'm through with you."_

            I gazed at him, unblinking, halted in my tracks. "No, no, no!" I shouted. "You and me, Dutchy! Against the world!" I was nearly hyperventilating. "We're the perfect couple. Perfect for each other, perfectly matched. No, no, you're wrong. You're wrong!"

            "You sound like Mush," he accused. "Stop being a diva."

            But I didn't want to stop being a diva. "Tell me you're lying! Tell me I'm your world! …Tell me I'm adored!"

            I wondered if he'd catch the reference. It was desperation, but it was the only thing I could grasp at in my moment of inane screaming.

            He looked ultimately sad, but finished the quote for me. "Get away from me."

            "The Lion King," I whispered. " 'The Madness of King Scar.'"

            Dutchy looked at his hands, studying every intimate detail. "Get away from me."

            "The Lion King," I repeated. " 'The Madness—'"

            He shook his head. "No, Specs. _Get away from me." He began walking back to the school, back to his beautiful, adored __car, back to his now-_normal life_._

            "Now who's being the diva?" I screamed after him. "Huh?! HUH?!"

            He didn't answer, just kept walking.

            I sat down on the sidewalk and began crying off all my beautiful gold eyeliner.

            After about five more minutes, maybe more, but certainly not less, an engine slowed. "Hey." A strong Brooklyn accent. I knew immediately it had to be that transfer student, Spot Conlon. I dared to glance up, and was startled to see that he wasn't about to slam a glass bottle on my head or anything. That's the type of thing Spot usually does. Not much tolerance in that bloodstream.

            "Hi," I said, sniffling and immediately hating myself for it.

            "Do you want a ride… or something?" he asked.

            I didn't really want to, but then I didn't want to walk, either. Dutchy would probably go get his car and then perform some heroic feat, like driving along slowly beside me the entire fucking half hour walk to my house, trying to get me to let him give me a ride. I pushed myself to my feet slowly and climbed into the passenger seat of Spot's roomy car. Something vintage. I don't know cars. But it was red—my favorite color besides neon orange and dark pink.

            "You okay?" he asked, looking at me in concern. I didn't dare look at his face, just watched the way he casually draped his wrists over the steering wheel. I'd never noticed how delicate his wrists were before.

            "I'm afraid so," I answered. I fell silent, not even bothering to reference the quote to RENT. What would be the point?

            "Hey!" he began laughing. "That's like this one song in RENT—you know about RENT, right?—it's my favorite musical."

            I looked over at him in shocked surprise. "_You_ like RENT?" I asked.

            He nodded ecstatically. "Did you hear that it's coming to the Center this weekend?"

            "Yeah!" I answered. "You have tickets?"

            "No," he answered. "My parents cut off my allowance, but won't let me get a job. I have like no money. It sucks."

            I nearly laughed suddenly at the absurdity of this scene. Here I was, in Spot Conlon's vintage car, having a conversation about RENT—fucking RENT!—with him. I'd never even talked to the kid before, except when he called me a homo.

            "Well… I have an extra ticket. I was gonna go with Dutchy, but …" I cut off.

            He looked over at me, and apparently I wasn't very good at masking my emotions this time. He pulled the car over. "What happened? You and Dutchy didn't—"

            I sighed, staring out the window. "He dumped me. Turned _straight_ on me. Fucking asshole!"

            I wondered what Spot was thinking. Those cool gray-blue eyes were probably narrowed as he wondered whether he should push me out of his car before I contaminated it with my gayness or something. I heard the shifting of his leather seat, then a hand—uncertain hand, cold and clammy—against my bare arm. I looked over in surprise, and his face was like a centimeter away.

            And then Spot fucking Conlon kissed me.

            Spot Conlon!

            And all of the angst of the day—all the depression, anger, unfairness—came flooding out of my body as I kissed him back. His hand nervously traced down my arm, straight to my zipper. The kid works fast.

            Moaning and kissing and touching, all in this fast pace, like someone had hit a fast-forward button, I let myself forget about Dutchy, brushing my hands through Spot's tawny hair.

            The middle of the afternoon, and Spot Conlon and I were making love in a car right there on the side of the road, five minutes from the school!

            So Dutchy loved a girl.

            I was fucking a prep, and to my heart's content.

            That would show Dutchy.

            Stupid fag.

**]*[**

**So let's find a bar  
So dark we forget who we are  
And all the scars of the never's and maybe's die  
**[rent's out tonight]

**]*[**

**[shoutouts!**

**O_O My GOD, you guys! 29 reviews?! *dies* You are all SO fantabulous!**

**rumor ][ WOO (says pie) FIRST REVIEWER WAS YOU! Yes, actually… Pinhead wasn't originally gonna be in this fic… but then everyone started liking him in Pretend… O_O Hehehe! Well… Mush's hotness would scare ME into silence… or screaming… or jumping him… ::ahem:: don't mind that last part… And Pinhead IS nice to people with crutches! I like Pinhead, don't you knock him! *huggles him protectively* LOL thanks for the review Rumor hun! Talk to ya soon.**

**BlackFire ][ Actually, I beat the crowds with like the first high school fic, back in like August I think… *nods hyperly* But that fic's stuck now. So c'est la vie! I don't really know why Pinhead's here yet… cuz… he was a convenient literary device in introducing the story and the various guys? Hehe! And AHS isn't a boarding school, just a boy's high school… so he'll still live with his parents… or maybe some other relatives… I really don't know yet! LOL guess we'll find out next chapter with Pinny at home… Sorry for poisoning your mind! *grin* Okay, so I'm not… LOLOL! Thanks for the review hun!**

**Thumbsucker Snitch ][ YAY FOR WILL & GRACE! I luuuurve Jack. He's so fuuuuuun. I have a friend Andy who looks just like a younger Jack. O_O We joked around like when the show first came out that we should write NBC and tell them to have Andy on the show as Jack's son. The next season, Jack had a son. O_O It was so weird. LOL! Thanks for the review Lutells! I heart you muchly-mushly!**

**Falco Conlon ][ ((shoutout number one)) Your other shoutout is nearer to the bottom… LOL! *snickers* You get the privilege of being the first person to leave me two reviews! :D And voila: flamah!spot. Oooh. He's gonna be FUN later. ^_^ Thanks Falco! I LURVE YOU! (continues talking in later shoutout)**

**Dreamer ][ *in announcer voice* It's a deal! LOL Thanks hun!**

**Pegasus ][ I LURVE YOU AND MISS YOU!!!! Where you been, kid?!?! We need to talk more! YUS! Thanks for the review hun, you better come back or I'll never forgive you!**

**misprint ][ I SENT YOUR PRESENT TODAY! *dance* It cost $3.10 to send. And I had to sign a paper that said "yes I am sending a present to Canada but it is not anything illegal." *dances* It was SUCH fun. And the postman took my money and then tried to rip me off. It was WONDERFUL! *sighs happily* I have read your review so many times over the past two days that I can't even count it. It makes me SO HAPPY. I enclosed pictures with your present. So you can share with Conor. And he will feel privileged. Because I SAY SO. Dammit. ^_^ I luffle you Misers!!!! SO MUCH!**

**Frenchy ][ Skitts is POSER goth. I just couldn't make him SERIOUSLY depressed. I just COULDN'T. He's too cute and funny for that. *imagines wetfaced!skitts singing in the washroom and awwwwwwwwww's* Thanks for the review!**

**GlitterPunk ][ NO SHADELLS! *pulls you back from land of Pulitzer!insaneness* I SHALL SAVE YOU… IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS HOLY AND NEWSIES… I luffle you dearly!!!**

**Stretch ][ Mush'll get his loving! …Maybe… or he'll be unrequited. I haven't decided yet. But… he's so CUTE when he's flirting with no real hope for anything occurring. *huggles Mush defensively* And he has an AFRO! *dies* Sometimes my brain scares even me… Thanks for the review dear!**

**Ruse ][ Thanks! Yus, I heart Specs and his musicals. You can't tell I'm a RENThead, can you?! *dies laughing* I think I had too much fun with this chapter… O_O Hehehe! Thanks for the review!**

**Ali ][ O_O Overgrown chipmunk on acid? That's something I'd like to see… *stares* Wow. Hehehehe! Ali hun, I heart you! I don't think I've told you that lately. You are seriously mucho wonderful. I should tell you that more often. Sorry I haven't. *anxious look* Thanks for the review babe!**

**Deejay Superstar ][ Reading Pretend isn't really necessary… Pinhead doesn't even get in the story til like the fifth chapter or so. And it's only ten chapters long. *giggles* That's just where he originated. And where I discovered his tendency to swear. Hehe! YAY FOR SUPER!FLAMING!SPECS! *hands him his superhero tights* Thanks for the review hun! *huggles***

**Hotshot ][ Hey, did you get my Swing Kids list I sent to the NML? I hope it helped… otherwise I'll feel like an idiot… but then again, THAT'S nothing new. ^_^ Yeah, that was basically my point—all-boys, very few girls, no need for a CC. I can throw in whoever I really WANT to put in, but I don't feel obligated or worried about getting people's characters wrong. And while I LOOOOOVE CC'd stories and being included in them, I wanted this to be a focus on the GUYS. Not really the girls. Yeah. LOL that was stupid and long and I'm shutting up. Thanks for the review!!!**

**The Omniscient Bookseller ][ Yus, I've been taking after Pinhead a lot lately… *sweatdrop* It's kinda bad… I swear a lot more after writing about or from the perspective of the red-haired kid. ^_^ Ooh… thanks for the compliments! *mondie's eyes light up* LOL! And why did you DIBS my story, might I ask? ARE YOU GONNA MST IT?!?!?! *hopes so* No one's MST'd any of my stuff… I feel kinda sad. *certainly LOOKS sad* Thanks for the review Omns dear! I heart you!**

**sugarNspice ][ Thanks!! I updated FAIRLY soon… yus. Soon for me, anyhow. ^_^ Thanks for the review hun!**

**GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ Yay! Thank you thank you! And look! O_O You read and reviewed before SKITTLES did! *is shocked* LOLOL! I heart you muchly-mushly, Glimms! And you COULD take Skitts home… but… well… he'd probably be angry and angsty with you… just cuz… he's angry and angsty at the world… but here ya go! *dumps angsty!skitts in glimm's arms* Thanks for the review!**

**Falco Conlon ][ ((shoutout number two)) I enjoyed the summarizing of each character quite a lot. ^_^ It made me happy. And I danced around the room a bit. Singing "King of New York". ^_^;;;;; It was grand fun. Heh. MUCHO LOVES AND WAFFLES AND MUSH!SYRUP (horny!blink: wow, that's dirty) TO FALCO!**

**Switch ][ O_O You'll go insane?! Yesterday in my planner I wrote "Being sane is highly overrated". ^_^ I don't remember why I wrote it, though… *tries to think* Ah well. Thanks for the review! I got it up as soon as I could! LOL!**

**Kitty ][ Good! I was hoping everyone would love Specs. I didn't want to get a whole bunch of "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SPECSY DARLING?!" reviews. O_O So I'm glad everyone's digging flaming!specs. Thanks for the review!! :D**

**Seraph ][ Uh… SPECS! *laughs* Thanks for the review hun! Yeah, I totally lurve present-day fics too… they're SUCH fun… :D**

**Stage ][ YUS! *goes off on a witch-hunt with Pulitzer being the witch* Hehehe! I love Specs too! Except… well… he kinda got a bit angsty in this chapter. *sweatdrop* No worries though, Mush is still HIS cheerful flaming self. Thanks for the review babe!**

**Shortie ][ Was there enough RENT in this chapter for ya? *grin* I luffle Specs. He's grand fun. Thanks for the review fellow Aaron!whore!!!**

**studentnumber24601 ][ … No. You cannot have my children. *hands you a horny!blink and edges away, glancing over her shoulder at you* Hehehe! But seriously, I'm so glad you liked it! *grins* I've never made Coke almost come out of someone's nose before with any of my stories! I strangely and suddenly feel QUITE proud of myself. For no apparent reason. ^_^;; Mucho loves to ya!**

**hilaRyB ][ …Hey, Hil! I have something new out! *snicker* You know, your love of Pinhead's really what prompted me to write this story… well, I was gonna write the story anyway, but I had no real introduction planned until I was like, "Pinhead. Goes to school. Meets boys we love." Then it was cake! So thanks mucholies for THAT! Next chapter, Mush will wear a Rainbow Brite t-shirt. ^_^ And really tight stripy pants and platform shoes. OH WOW that makes for one HELL of a pretty picture… Ooh, Cowboy's gonna have an actual PART in this one. And not entirely bastardy, either. Well… that's the plan right now, anyway. Bumlets is gonna show up soon too… like, majorly show up. I always leave the kid out. Bumlets, Boots and Crutchy are the three I always forget to write about. -_-;; Whoops. Geezums Hil, how many times does Pinhead have to tell you he's straight?! *laughs* Poor guy… you'll never just accept him for HIM, will you? OH MY GOD, your little "sparkwing diamond" thing had me ROLLING ON THE FLOOR! *huggles and snuggles Moulin Rouge!* Dutchy's not really a stoner. Pinhead just has a problem with classifying people incorrectly upon first impressions. *shrugs* Dutchy's really just a poser!goth. OOOH! Mush is gonna have a solo in the choir! *nods emphatically* It's gonna be GRAND. No, I've never seen "The Birdcage"… *ducks* Sorry. "incredufantabulasticinary" is my new favey-davey word, JUST by the way. Erm… I threw more Spot in this chapter! Just cuz he's not with Jack doesn't mean anything, right? …RIGHT?! *dance* Thanks for the review, Hil! I LUFFLE YOU DEARLY!!!!!!!!**

**Artemis-Chan ][ Thanks! I love that song, and it just fit in there SO WELL! *dances* Thanks for the review! As for the female characters… well, Dutchy's new girlfriend will play a role, as will Blink's girlfriend. But I'm not sure after that. I really didn't want this story to turn into a huge casting call shoutout, ya know? :D Again, thanks for the review! It's mucholy appreciated.**

**Mush's Skittles ][ Poor Pinhead… I just can't let the boy be, huh? *grins sheepishly* But I just HAD to throw in all that mush (pun intended) about Mush's fabulous smile. I just HAD to. Cuz I love his smile. *throws hints at Aaron Lohr as if they were softballs* O_o Actually, I can't throw softballs worth crap… *wanders away to ponder meaning on life***

**geometrygal ][ Thank you! *dark red blush* I haven't actually decided if I'm gonna shove Mush and Blink together… of if Mush's just gonna chase after unrequited loves the entire story. ^_^ Thanks for the review, though! *giant grin***

**…end shoutouts!]**


	3. chapter three: cowboy

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter three: cowboy]**

[chapter written: may 8, 2003]

**]*[**

September 24, 2003

            Wednesday. I hate Wednesdays. If anything bad is gonna happen, it's gonna be on a Wednesday. You ever notice that? Well, it's true. I'm real superstitious about Wednesdays. When I was seven, I broke a mirror on a Wednesday, and I swear my luck plummeted, only to become immediately improved upon the day, seven years later. So the fact that my entire childhood sucked can be blamed on a Wednesday.

            My mom left my dad and me when I was eight (yes, she left on a Wednesday), because she "needed her space" and "felt too inhabited." My mom was an artist, and from what I gather, a pretty good one, too. She moved out to California, and her artwork began to sell. When she was murdered (on a Wednesday) two years after leaving – the police say it was just a mindless, random murder – she'd written it in her will that Dad and I were supposed to get her money. Only problem with that is that my dad had been thrown into jail by that time, for embezzling. He'd been so disgusted with our pitiful lifestyle, of our eternal bachelor pad, that he'd decided to steal funds from the company he'd been employed at. Of course, he'd committed the crime on no day but a Wednesday. Our lives were so ironic at that point… there was my mother, and she was the one who should've been living a penniless existence while Dad and I lived it up, but it was the complete opposite. Mom had a small fortune, while we had nothing. And after her death, Dad, being in jail, didn't get any of her money. Somehow the legal system decided that I should inherit all of it. At ten years old! I had been living with my aunt and uncle and three cousins by that time, and suddenly I had money. I think I got a little spoiled. But that was the point of my life where I decided that, like my mother, my new dream was to move out West. Santa Fe, New Mexico, to be exact. Santa Fe's the kind of place where Wednesdays don't exist. And with my mom's funds, I was finally able to buy something I'd wanted since age five—a cowboy hat. I now have around twenty of them, I think. They're the cause of constant ridicule at school, but I don't really mind.

            With my money, my aunt decided to send me to this private high school in the town, Apollo High School for Boys. It's run by an idiot, Mr. Pulitzer, who bears no resemblance to the brainy genius man who he claims to be his great-great-uncle twice removed or something, Joseph Pulitzer.

            School started that year on a Wednesday.

            Don't ask why I began thinking of all this in choir, besides the fact that today is a Wednesday, and nothing bad had happened all day—highly unusual. We weren't really supposed to be paying attention, anyway. It's only warm-ups. Our ditzy choir director insists that warm-ups is the perfect time to let your mind wander. Her real name is Ms. Larksen, but we all call her Ms. Drizzle. One day, Racetrack, pretending to be a thug like he normally does, was making fun of her frizzy hair and referred to her as "Frizzle McDrizzle." Somehow she became Ms. Drizzle within a week.

            "Open the mouths," she called, sounding like the archetype of fruitiness on account of her Swedish accent. Oh, but don't get any wrong ideas—Ms. Drizzle is no Swedish swimsuit model babe. She's got horrid, red, poofy hair, and dresses in fashions from the 1950s. She popped her mouth open, displaying all thirty-two of her pearly-whites, over-exaggerating to get us to open our mouths just a little more.

            Behind me, I heard Mush whisper, "I only open my mouth that wide when something of value is about to enter it. Like Kid Blink, for instance."

            I had to stifle my grin. Mush is such an idiot. He's a really nice guy, though, once you get past his dirty, polluted mind.

            Not that that's unusual around here. There are lots of dirty, polluted minds. I waited for Specs' reply—his mind is even smuttier than Mush's. But there was no response. I peeked over my shoulder, and saw Specs standing there, his mouth dropped open like Ms. Drizzle would like, looking as stoned as his Partner For Life, Dutchy, usually does. His outfit was incredibly tame, for him—green t-shirt that said "Boy Bands Suck…" Down at the bottom of the t-shirt, near the cuff and extremely near his crotch, it said "…Me." He had on jeans, and flip-flops. His hair was impeccable, of course, as was his makeup. But he still looked… not himself.

            On the other hand, Mush was looking remarkably flamboyant. He had on a miniature t-shirt with Rainbow Brite on the front, and tight red and yellow striped pants—and the sick part was, he could look _normal_ in such a getup. On his feet were incredibly large platform boots; I wondered how he could walk in them. He grinned at me, and I had to downplay my smile back at him. Damn, the kid's infectious. He could make the Devil bless him in the name of God.

            Mush and I used to be really, really close friends in elementary school. I'm the one who gave him the name Mush, and he was the first person to start calling me Cowboy. We were actually kinda exclusive friends—we hated all the other kids at our elementary school, particularly Specs (who we beat up on a daily basis because we despised his glasses), Davey, Snipeshooter, and Racetrack. In ninth grade, we kinda drifted apart when we arrived in this private school, meeting some different guys we'd never known before. Of course, some of our elementary peers came to the high school with us by chance. I became friends with Davey, and Spot and Jake and Snipeshooter and Boots and Crutchy, while he began hanging around with Kid Blink, Dutchy, Specs, Pie Eater, and Racetrack. But, really, Mush and I still get along quite well. We never had a falling-out or anything. I admit I was a bit weirded out when he told me he was gay in ninth grade (yes, he came out to me on a Wednesday), and that can actually be the found as the root of our separation as best friends. But I never stopped talking with him or anything. I just wasn't all that comfortable around him again until last year, when I overheard him talking with Dutchy at his locker. Those were the days when Dutchy was happy-go-lucky, albeit strange, and actually responded when you asked him a question. Mush was really upset about how some kids had been treating him, Specs, Dutchy, and Snitch (Skittery hadn't come out yet). I will never forget his accented, hissing remark of "Don't people understand that we're just like them? We eat, we breathe, we love, we hate, we live, we party, we do homework, we laugh, we cry, we're _exactly the same_ as every other fucking asshole at this school." Up until that point, I'd been a backstabbing jerk to the four, nice to their faces but bashing them the second they turned around. That turning point of a statement, added with Mush having to brush away some angry tears, suddenly made me hate not only at myself, but all my friends. I immediately switched from gay-basher to threatening any of my friends who were less than tolerant. You can't just be best friends with someone for most of your life and then not feel defensive when they've been hurt.

            Sure, there are times he really annoys me—two days ago, for instance. I was already tardy, and on the verge of truancy, which is twenty minutes late, and what did he do? Made me stop and talk to some new kid. However, Mondays are generally _lucky days, and somehow I managed to get inside the school without Pulitzer seeing me and bitching me out. The school's office secretary, Mrs. Jacobs, is my friend Davey's mom, and she signed me in as arriving at 7:59—only nineteen minutes late and therefore not truant. I love that woman. She didn't even tell Pulitzer on me._

            Speak of the devil… literally…

            Pulitzer came to the door of the choir room, and leaned against the doorframe, surveying us as we mindlessly continued on with our warm-ups. Ms. Drizzle spends most of the period on warm-ups… which could be an explanation for why our choir never knows our songs' lyrics at concerts. Pulitzer's beady little eyes took a census of our choir, and he shook his head to himself, as if our singing was insulting to him. It took a good three minutes for Ms. Drizzle to even notice him.

            "Medda," he greeted her, and we all had to hide our snickers. It's really fantastic, her first name. She blushed a deep crimson—she hates anyone using her first name—and tried to shush him. As if anyone could shush Mr. Pulitzer. He continued booming. "I'd like to see Micah Meyers out in the hallway, please. As well as Jason Marsh, Martin Cordet, and Michael Trelance. Oh, and Christopher Lawrence." Mush, Specs, Snitch, Skittery, and Dutchy all climbed to their feet and made for the door. Normally, our choir of immature boys would've been hollering and mocking the five. Today, however, it began buzzing with mere whispers of noise. It was easy to make the connection. The five called out of choir were the five who were openly gay. I watched as Mush sashayed from the room, a cloud of glitter showering from his afro with every step he took. Somehow I'd missed seeing all the sparkly glitter in there at my first appraisal of his attire.

            I looked across the room at Spot, who's a second tenor. He looked disturbed. Then again, Spot always looks disturbed when it's a subject pertaining to gays. Let's just say Spot isn't the most tolerant person in the world. I've tried to convince him time and time again that gays are people too, but he's still quite the homophobic individual. Once he mumbled something about some gay guy back in Brooklyn trying to rape him or something. I'm fairly certain he was just making it up, though. Spot has a very active imagination.

            The five boys didn't return to choir that period. It really was too bad, because Mush and Skittery have a lovely duet together in our Scottish song, and it sounded like shit without them.

            Their prolonged absence troubled me, and I knew something horrible was brewing.

            It _was a Wednesday, after all._

            Mush came in smack in the middle of the following period, literature. His face looked ashen white as he slid into his desk behind me. We were having a study period, and our teacher, Mr. Denton, had stepped out of the classroom for a smoke. I turned to him immediately. "What was that about?" I demanded.

            He looked about to make sure no one was listening. Of course they weren't; we go to a private school where everyone only _pretends_ to like each other but really deep down wants to stab each and every person they see. Then he brought his head closer to mine, and sighed. His brown eyes searched my face imploringly as he told me quietly, "Pulitzer's making us pay more money to come here to school." His shoulders slumped. I wasn't really all that up on Mush's life anymore, what with our different and distinct lives now, but I'd been at his home so many times when we were younger that I could still walk through it blindfolded today, and I know that his family isn't all that well-off. He's got an older brother who hardly graduated—and by hardly, I mean doing-remedial-courses-up-until-an-hour-before-graduation—and who entered the work force immediately after, working double-shifts to help put Mush through school. Mush is smart, and his whole family wants the best for him. His sister, Nancy, even sends monthly checks to his parents for his education, even though she's married and has a new baby on the way, who could surely use those checks just as easily. I knew this wouldn't be good news for Mush's family. They might even pull him out of the school system, I figured.

            "Why?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. He just stared at me with those huge brown eyes, and I felt my heart growing larger and larger out of anger. "Is it because you're gay?" I asked.

            He ducked his head, so I wouldn't see his tears. Mush doesn't like being seen as vulnerable, even though he is. "Yeah," he answered. "I didn't think he could do it. But he can. He's got lawyers who know all these fancy tricks… How am I gonna pay that money, Cowboy? A thousand fucking dollars extra, _per month_. That's _nine thousand extra fucking dollars_ that I cannot pay."

            I bit my lower lip, staring at him. "I dunno," I answered. "Look, you can't just sit back and let this happen. I'll help you."

            "You'll help?" he asked incredulously. "Jack. I hate to fill you in—but you, and all your friends, are not exactly known for helping us out. Pulitzer isn't charging _you, ya straight bastard." A shadow of a grin as he attempted to lighten the situation. "There's nothing you can do."_

            I just laughed. "Yeah, I may be straight. But… I'm also your friend."

            "You are?"

            Sometimes Mush is just like a little kid. This was one of those times. He looked like all he needed was someone to comfort him. His big eyes and goofy hair immediately make him look at least three years younger than he is, and then with the Rainbow Brite shirt… He looked like he needed nothing in the world if not a hug.

            "Of course I am. After school, get your friends together. We'll meet in the senior hallway. I'll bring my friends, too. The more people we can get together, the better off we'll be."

            Mush nodded at me, looking most serious. Then Mr. Denton strode back into the room, straightening his bow tie, smelling of strong tobacco, and clapping his hands for silence. "Work!" he shouted over the din of the room. "I gave you this study period so you could work on your projects!"

            I tried to focus on my project the rest of the period, really I did. But my brain was working overtime. How the hell could I convince Pulitzer, who already hates me, that he was being a jerk-off, without being suspended… or worse?

**]*[**

            Snipeshooter rolled his eyes, kicking at the bench he was seated on with the heel of his shoe. "Why the hell are we helping them, again?"

            "Because I say so," I answered, looking around me. "Where are they?"

            "Maybe they forgot," Jake offered, grinning. "Or they're too busy fucking in a janitor's closet somewhere."

            Spot laughed, and I glared at them both. "Look. They need our help. And we're gonna give it."

            Spot shook his head. "Jack, you're an idiot. Just let Pulitzer do what he wants."

            I turned my back on my group of buffoons, watching down the hallway. Suddenly the other gang turned the corner, chattering and looking the epitome of confidence. Mush and Specs were in the middle, surrounded by an arch of their friends. The interesting thing about Mush's crew is that they're a mixture of everything. I noted that not only were the five boys who had to pay more now there, but also Racetrack, Kid Blink, that new kid Mush had made me talk to the other day, and even the school mute, Bumlets. I had convinced a few acquaintances of mine to join my group too, including Swifty, Itey, and Snoddy.

            Spot stood at my right side, staring with me. Then he shook his head. "I'm out of here," he said, and turned abruptly.

            "Spot! Get back here!" I shouted after him. He continued walking, not even turning back. He flipped me off, though. I waved him off disgustedly. There were more important things to do than care about poor baby Conlon.

            It seemed almost as if a clash would happen, when their group finally reached mine. Our two parties stood looking at each other, with an invisible line drawn between us, almost like a face-off. Everyone's faces were tense and uncertain. I could practically feel Snipeshooter baring his teeth behind me. So I made the first move, and grinned.

            Immediately Mush grinned back, and I'll be damned if he doesn't have the best smile in the world. It's the kind of smile where you feel privileged just for catching a glimpse of it.

            "We can't let Pulitzer do this to you," I said, widening my view to look in turn at each of the five boys in question.

            "Everyone feel that way? Or just you, Oh Mighty Diplomat?" Specs snarled, his own gaze back at me hardened and cruel. "Or, should I say, Mr. I Feel Sorry For the Homos For Not Being Equal To Me." He rolled his eyes so dangerously high it was a miracle they didn't get stuck.

            "Specs," Mush said in a warning voice.

            "What's going on here?" Mr. Hertz, the vice principal, asked. He had snuck up on us without any of us noticing, somehow.

            "We're talking about how unfair Pulitzer's being," I said, off-handedly. I could hear Boots groaning behind me, as if I'd just signed all of our death certificates.

            And in a way I had.

            "Oh, so you're sticking up for the faggots now, Mr. Kelly?" Mr. Hertz asked nastily. I've had plenty of confrontations with this bastard, and merely nodded. He scared me when I was a freshman. Now I couldn't care less what he thinks he's gonna do to me. "Well." He looked around at all of us, as if taking a mental picture, then whipped out his ever-present little notebook with his monogrammed silver pen. He began scribbling something.

            "What are you writing, Sir?" asked Crutchy respectfully. Crutchy's a huge brown-noser. Only problem is, the teachers can't stand him, despite his sucking-up. He's an all right guy, though, really.

            "Your names," he answered once he was finished, flipping the notebook closed. "Now all of you can pay the increased price, along with the five lucky boys from earlier." He turned on his heel and marched off, toward the principal's office.

            David turned to me, his face ashen. "He can't do that. He can't do that!"

            Specs sneered. "Oh, so _now you care about the increased rates, when it affects you. Asshole."_

            "Specs, _chill out," Mush pleaded, staring at the boy, who sighed but shut his mouth in response._

            "This doesn't change anything," I said loudly. "Now it's just in writing that we're all in this together."

            "What are we gonna do, you fuckhead?" David said angrily, nearly hysterical. David never swears. I could see Racetrack exchanging an entertained look with Dutchy. That's when I first noticed something was strange—Dutchy wasn't standing next to Specs. In fact, they were just about as far away from each other as they could get. Usually the two can't keep their hands off each other. I wondered what was up. Then David's next statement snapped me back to reality. "What _can we do? Strike?" His words dripped with sarcasm._

            My brain rejoiced. "That's it!" I shouted, relieved. "That's what I've been trying to come up with since sixth period!"

            He stared at me. "Jack, I was just kidding."

            "We can't strike," Boots agreed. "We… we're just kids, Jack."

            "Yeah, well, some of us are eighteen, right?" I argued.

            David laughed ironically, as if he couldn't believe this was happening. "Jack, then we won't teach them anything. We'll just be a bunch of high-school dropouts with no direction in life."

            "Yeah? Well, what if we get every kid in school to do it with us? This school operates on the money our parents pay. And if we aren't going to school, they won't get any money. The school will shut down."

            "This can't possibly work," Snitch told me, shaking his head. "You're off your rocker, Cowboy." He turned to leave.

            "Hey!" I shouted, a bit angry. I hate when people leave when I'm not done talking. "Look. Pulitzer and Hertz, I mean, they own this school, right? So do we really think a bunch of kids can stop them? I don't know, but it's up to us. Are we just gonna take this, pay money that some of us can't afford, or are we gonna strike?"

            Mush smiled at me, not his full-blown grin, but an unsure half-smile. "We're gonna strike, Cowboy."

            Mush's group murmured agreements, starting to look thoroughly excited, and Snitch had even started to smile. But my whole group still seemed unsure, until Boots shouted from the back. "Okay. Jack, tell us what to do."

            The two groups started to merge, forming a circle around me. I shoved through the back, standing on a bench. My boys were forced to turn around, and they were now not two groups, but a unified sea of faces beneath me. "Pulitzer and Hertz have to respect the rights of the students who go to their school!"

            "Yeah!" everyone agreed, becoming excited, and it was seeming suddenly like a religious frenzy. I suddenly realized why Hitler had loved his power so much. Everyone was looking at me, and listening to me, and I felt so powerful that I never wanted to give it up.

            "Pulitzer and Hertz," I continued, "they think we're absolutely, lower-than-low, _nothing! Do you think we're nothing?"_

            "No!" everyone yelled.

            "Pulitzer and Hertz, they think they fucking _own_ us!" I cried. "Do they own us?"

            "No!" the other boys shouted back, and their enthusiasm was endearing. I couldn't help but grin.

            "We may not be eloquent, we may not each have power or brains or looks or anything connecting us," I said, staring at each face. So individual, this crowd. And yet, so completely unified. "But we've gotta show them that we are American boys. We're united boys. Just because we fucking say so!"

            Specs stared up at me disdainfully. "Are you really serious, Kelly? You're not just bullshitting us for a laugh?"

            I glared. "You heard Hertz. We all have to pay now, too. It's our asses as much as yours—which means that it doesn't matter if my _word_ isn't good enough for you, you can _still_ count on us to stay loyal to this."

            "So how are we gonna convince the other kids to join us? They don't have to pay," Swifty pointed out.

            I nodded. "We'll just have to talk to them."

            Racetrack snorted. "Some a' da bastards don't hear very fucking good."

            Pinhead grinned. "Then we'll just have to beat them to very tiny little ass-licking pulps."

            "No!" David said. "My mom will _kill me if I fight."_

            Everyone rolled their eyes and groaned. "Poor Mama's Boy," Specs said, pouting in mockery.

            I needed to regain attention, and keep everyone focused. "It's gonna take hard work, convincing everyone else to join us. You up to it?"

            "Yeah," everyone said, but only a few were as enthusiastic as before, and the response was scattered, not a single, unified shout.

            I tried again. "When someone's not up for joining us, we're gonna have to get them to! Let me hear it, are you gonna give yourself one hundred percent to this?"

            "Yeah!" It was starting to go back up to fever pitch, and Mush was grinning like an idiot, which only made me grin too. Pie Eater added a "Woo!" for good measure.

            "We'll do what we have to do until Pulitzer and Hertz listen to us!" Mush shouted. "Even if it means getting every single fucking kid in the _country_ to quit school!"

            "The country!" Jake said, staring at Mush like he was insane. Mush's smile wavered. Then Jake grinned. "How about every kid in the _world_!" Mush grinned back, and though both were uncertain, I was so proud of them that I couldn't even put words to it.

            I nodded. "The world's gonna hear about this! Everyone in the world will know!"

            Everyone cheered, and I got the feeling that we were in a very cheesy Disney movie from like the 90s. It was so cliché and so _perfect_ that it seemed destined for failure in this, the real world, but at the same time, I was in such an emotional frenzy that I couldn't have cared less.

            Everyone slowly fell back to silence, and looked at me expectantly. But I was out of things to say. Then, from the back of the crowd, came a dreamy voice, velvety and smooth. "When all of us are shouting, who could ever hear a school bell ring?" Necks craned, until we realized it was Bumlets speaking.

            Wow, has that kid got a voice. I'd never heard him talk before.

            "That'll be our motto!" Crutchy decided.

            "Great! Now, tomorrow, I want all of you to spread the word to everyone in your classes that we are _not putting up with this, and they'd be wise to join our group," I said. "We'll officially begin striking on Monday." Mondays are lucky, remember._

            The boys began to leave, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Mush, David, Boots, Specs, and I remained.

            "Hey. I guess… thanks for this," Specs said grudgingly. He had on the least amount of makeup that I'd seen on him since elementary school. I noted that he almost looked normal without the glittery eyeshadow. "I mean, you didn't have to do this. And you did anyway. And I think that's cool."

            Mush nodded. "You really are a true friend, Cowboy." There was a sense of awe in his voice. "Even though we ain't been so close, not since we used to beat up Specs on the playground in elementary."

            "I'd almost forgotten about that," Specs said, looking insulted. "Hey! You guys were asses!"

            Mush laughed. "C'mon, Specsie. I'm driving you home today. No walking in this rain." They waved goodbye and walked down the hallway, laughing and joking.

            I looked at David and Boots. "I think it's up to the three of us to convince Spot."

            Boots stared at me. "Aw, hell no!" he said. "You must be crazy. Spot will never join this."

            "Did I hear you boys right earlier?" a voice said, extremely loudly and from extremely close by. I jumped, and then looked over. My English teacher, Mr. Denton, was leaning against a wall.

            I bristled. "How much did you hear? How long have you been standing there?"

            "Long enough," he answered. "A strike to counterattack the rate increase for gay students?"

            "Yeah," I said defensively.

            "Very admirable," he said. My guard went down a little. "Say, what would you boys say if I told you I wanted to do an article about it for the school paper?"

            I'd forgotten that Denton was the editor of the paper, as well as the newspaper class teacher. I exchanged looks with David and Boots, who both shrugged. I shrugged, too. "Hell, yeah!" I answered.

            "You've got yourselves a story, then," he said, smiling.

            I grabbed Boots and Davey by their collars, and hauled them out the front doors with me. "We gotta go talk to Spot," I said, sighing. "Somehow, he's gotta listen to us."

            Despite my outward confidence, inside I was a nervous wreck. What if this didn't work? Boots was right, Spot was dead-set against this. And if we couldn't even get Spot to join us, how the hell were we gonna convince an entire school to join the cause? If this failed, my savings account with my inheritance from Mom was gonna plummet, and there went what little I had saved up for college.

            But if this worked… if it worked, what a triumph.

            It made sense that this turn of events would happen. After all, it is a Wednesday.

**]*[**

**Digging a ditch where silence lives  
Where all these disappointments that grow angry out of me will rise  
Will die, will die, will die  
Run to your dreaming when you're alone  
**[dave matthews band's digging a ditch]

**]*[**

**[shoutouts!**

**FIRST OF ALL, if you left a review on Chapter 1 FOR Chapter 2… You might not get a shoutout. EEP! Sorry about that, but my computer is being retarded and sheeee-ite. LOL, but I still love you! I did catch one or two of those reviews, but I might not have gotten some of you. If so, my deepest apologies, and mucho regrets. I STILL LOVE YOU ALL!!!! *dances***

**Aura ][ *blows you a kiss* Mucho thanks hun!! I think I like Specs/Spot too… even though it could become quite a mess soon… O_o It shall be interesting! Thanks for the review!**

**Stage ][ Dutchy/Spot?? See, that seems really weird to me… even weirder than Specs/Spot. O_O LOL! I WANT TO SEE RENT TOO! I'm so frickin obsessed with it, it's sad… *runs away and sits, giggling, rocking back and forth while religiously reading her $30 RENT book* It's mine… my _precious_… Lurves to Stagers!!**

**Falco Conlon ][ You *are* hyper! O_O LOL! You're fun when you're hyper though. I don't see how ANYONE can like Jake. All he does is try to steal Mush's glory in the movie… but I won't get into that now, cuz I'll talk about it for hours if I get started. *hates Jakes with a passion* LOL Thanks for the review! And *sniffle* I miss Kez too… I'm gonna send her a letter though to cheer her up. *nods* Thanks for the review Falco hun with the waffles!**

**Shortie ][ You must've read my mind, that's what I was thinking when I wrote that part too! ^_^ I lurve ya so much Shorts, you're wonderful!!! GO GO RENT-ISMS!**

**studentnumber24601 ][ BTW, I have as of late decided to call you B-24s. After the B-52s, but not. Yus. Bwahahaha! I lurve hoodie!dutchy, too. And hoodies. And Ivan. O_O Dudynsky is SUCH a fun name. ^^ Yeah, I don't know where Mush/Blink is going… *cringe* It could get messy. Boyfriends are highly overrated… I'd take horny!blink over boyfriend any day. ^_^**

**rumor ][ Yus, of course Specs would want Mush's body… Mush is one hot boy. ^_^ Not that I'm biased… Nope. HATE TO THE GAY-BASHERS! *throws sticks at them* Wow… that was really showcasing tolerance, wasn't it? LOL! ^_^ **is reminded of reverse-discrimination, except gays for gay-bashers instead** Hehe! I LIKE PINHEAD TOO! I lurve all your various comments throughout your reviews. Make for very great reading. ^_^ I lurve ya rums!**

**Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ Yus, let's make my stories into movies! *hopes to high heaven that Aaron Lohr will agree to go back in time and become flaming!mush* LOLOL! Who WOULDN'T want a hot and steamy car ride with Spot?! LOL! I don't even like the kid all that much and I wouldn't turn it down! Hahahaha! Thanks for the review hun, huggles and luffles!**

**Deejay Supastar ][ Yeah, Jakes and Snipes suck… which is why I always make them evil. I have big plans for them in this story… *cackles evilly* LOL! I lurve you Polecat!! You went through all that trouble to get me my lj… *huggles* You're awesome! *dances away* Thanks for the review!**

**Artemis-Chan ][ ff.net hates me, and often says I don't update when I do. *kicks it in the metaphorical face* LOL! I'm glad you kept with it though until you COULD read it. ^_^ That makes me feel loved and squishy inside. I'm glad you like Pinhead! And yes, I'll be putting these boys through a lot… I can't just sit by and (heaven forbid) let them live happy lives or anything! No, no, I have a habit of being the most mean to those I love the greatest… except Mush, I always end up protecting him. He's the only person I'll never kill off in a fic. LOL! Thanks for the review hun!**

**Mush's Skittles ][ I LURVE YOU! And the yellow paper may now be printed on. *nods wisely* LOL! Hey, now I understand the "Runan!" thing. ^^ Yay for phone calls! You are SO awesomely awesome, Itts. I heart you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**hilaRyB ][ Okay, so I don't have your entire review here in front of me, but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR IT! I thought it was splendid of you to email it to me. Perhaps you should stay away from the "."s as they tend to sever reviews… LOL! I don't get why that happens, when HTML isn't even allowed… *stares in confusion at ff.net* Stupid site… AND EMETT ROCKS!! LOL! I lurve you hun!!! You're my favorite!**

**Sparker ][ *hastens to give you a shoutout* I don't know how Dutchy could turn straight from Specsie! *huggles Specsie* I think he'd downright sexy. But Dutchy's … well, Dutchy. And I have no idea really who's turning slashy and who's gonna be straight… AIE! It's so hard to keep these newsies musies happy in my head! LOLOL! Thanks for the review hun!!!**

**geometrygal ][ ff.net freaking SUCKS! I hate it so much! LOLOL! It never lets chapters be seen and it never refreshes and ARGH! But oh well… *melodramatic sigh a la Mush* I'll get over it… I GUESS… hehehe! Thank you thank you, and I'm so glad everyone's catching my Race-Timon reference… Lurve to all my fellow musical-followers!! Hehehe! Thanks for the review doll!**

**Gothic Author ][ Yeah, Specs/Spot kinda freaked me out when I wrote it… first draft, Spot drove by and cracked a bottle on Specs' head and drove off, and Mush/Pinhead/Blink found Specs a little while later bleeding all over the place and not caring… then I decided I didn't wanna stick Specs in the hospital or anything so I had to rewrite it. And then, lo and behold, the muses told me to make Spot LIKE Specs… It was very disturbing for me. ^^ The blonde triplets from Beaty and the Beast were my favorite characters in that movie… LOL! I lurve Disney movies. I really don't know if Race is gay or not, he hasn't been talking to me lately… I guess I'll find out sooner or later, though. Right now, as far as I know, he's straight. *shrugs* Thanks for the review!!**

**GeckoPixie ][ YAY FOR COINCIDENCES! I lurve musicals… therefore, it is just grand to have gay guys in stories who can ALSO lurve musicals. ^^ Gotta get the newsies in band… it's like a requirement now. But it's so easy to imagine them all in band, somehow… o_O I don't know what's gonna happen with Mushy… he always chases after the unobtainable boys… and I don't know about Specs, either. I kinda put him in a jam there, didn't I? *ponders* Ah well, thanks for the review hun!!**

**Raven ][ Yeah that's two votes for Spot to be bi and not strictly gay… LOL! I don't really think I'm adding characters… that's really why I made it an all-boys school, so I don't have to mess with any CCs or anything. ^^ But thanks for the interest—at least you like the story enough to WANT to be in it! And thanks for the two reviews, hun!**

**GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ Look, look, I made Jake almost civil in this chapter! I did I did I did! *glares at you* Yeah. So there. LOLOL! I love ya Glimms! Thanks for the review!! And ten bucks in the mail? *calls to Spot* Spot, you're gonna sleep with a girl named Chelci at the next party…**

**GlitterPunk ][ Dutchy made me sad, too… don't worry, I think next chapter is his… so he'll get to shout his opinion… Then again, this chapter was gonna be Kid Blink's. So who knows. ^^ I LUFFLE YOU DEARLY SHADERS DAHLINK!**

**Ali ][ No, I haven't seen Clone High—well, I've seen like two seconds of it once, but I changed the channel… I don't watch a lot of TV… I do love Punk'd, though!! ^^ I lurve plaid pants, and I lurve sticking newsies boys in plaid pants. Snipes and Jake are ALWAYS the resident evil jerks. It's just so easy for me to imagine… *ponders* You can marry Pinhead, but you'll have to steal him from hilaRyB. He's hanging on her ceiling fan with Bumlets. Yay, I'm glad for you wearing socks just for the occasion of reviewing! *huggles you* Mucho luvs, luv!**

**Switch ][ LOL I say that all the time—absatively posalutely. ^_^ I'm not really sure where Blink/Mush are gonna go yet… it's so hard to work with your characters when they're so stubborn *kicks at straight!blink* LOL!!**

**Stretch ][ You are allowed to give him a hug. *throws flaming!specs at you* Yeah… just wait till Dutchy and Spot have a confrontation… AIE I can't wait to write more of this story! ^_^ That's always a good thing, right?? Yes, Mush is quite the drama queen. But that's why we love him!! He's also a diva. LOL again, thanks for the review!**

**unnamed ][ Is Pinhead straight? LOL now you're sounding like hilaRyB, who's decided that Pinhead and Bumlets are gonna hook up. ^_^ No, Pinhead's really straight… *gives cookies to your muses* Thanks for the compliments! O_O They made me happy and ego-inflated and feeling quite good about myself. LOL!!**

**Seraph ][ Hey, thanks! LOL! Those were some of my favorite lines, too. ^_^ I'm currently obsessed with the OBC Lion King soundtrack, so Specs might be spouting off quite a lot of it… :D Thanks for the review!**

**…end shoutouts!!]**


	4. chapter four: dutchy

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter three: dutchy]**

[chapter written: may 26, 2003]

**]*[**

**Author's Note The First ]*[ Mucho mad love to Shade of Temair—aka GlitterPunk—who is the most adamant updation whore I know. I LUFFLE YOU SHADERS! Sorry there's no No Day yet, love, but I'm trying to work out of my block on it… and… ::ahem:: WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BLOODFLAME/ECLIPSE?! ::ahem::**

**Author's Note The Second ]*[ Forgot to mention this last time… yes, I made the Vice Principal's name Hertz instead of Hearst. I figured that having Pulitzer and Hearst was just too corny. Hertz is fairly close to Hearst, so you get the effect of "Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing" without the cheeseball-factor. So there ya go. Nobody commented on it, but I thought I'd explain anyway. Just so you don't think that I don't know that his name was actually Hearst, not Hertz…**

**]*[**

September 25, 2002

            My alarm clock sucks.

            It's Mickey Mouse, for fuck's sake. I got it for my eleventh birthday, and it's still louder than hell. I swatted at it angrily, trying to stop that god-awful buzzing noise, which had been going on for some time. Then I looked at the clock part—nearly seven thirty.

            Fuck.

            How do I always manage to sleep in?

            Ten minutes to get to school, and I couldn't afford to be late again, because Hertz told me the other day that if I get one more tardy, I'm not graduating this June. It's only September! How the fuck am I gonna make it, on time, for the rest of the year?

            I scratched at my head, and at least my hair wasn't too greasy. I could probably pass through all day without too many comments. There wasn't any time for a shower, either way. I shrugged and looked around for my sweatshirt. It's the kind of shirt that makes the jocks roll their eyes and whisper to each other behind my back—I haven't washed it in three months, and I wear it every day, summer through spring. Damn, I love that sweatshirt. It smells good—like grass and sweat and summer. I finally found it and pulled it over my head. Good thing I slept in my jeans last night, because there was no way in fuck I was gonna change. I found some sneakers—I don't think they were of the same pair, but no matter—and raced down the stairs.

            Made it to school on time. Two minutes early, in fact.

            Realized in first period that I'd left my books at home.

            Fuck my life.

            I could hear Cowboy on the other side of the room, whining aimlessly about Spot. I swear, those two have _got to fuck, because they bitch enough about each other to be married. From the sounds of it, Spot had skipped out entirely this time—going back to Brooklyn for a week, apparently, to take care of his ma or something. Cowboy didn't seem to believe it. Neither did Davey, who is Cowboy's second bitch. Davey really just wants to fuck Cowboy, but Cowboy's so dense he doesn't notice._

            People have got to stop denying their sexual orientation.

            Pricks.

            Blink's in our class too, and usually he's my savior, cuz he's the only fucking idiot in this school who has half a brain in the ways of life. But lately, I haven't been wanting to talk to him so much. It could be because he so blatantly denies being gay, while everyone knows that come nightfall, he's wet-dreaming about Mush. Even his girlfriend says he's gay. But then, that could be the other reason I don't want to talk to him… I'm fucking his girlfriend behind his back.

            God, she's fucking _beautiful, and the only person that I'd ever thought of that way, besides Specs, who, I must admit, is one hell of a fuck. But Blink's girl—she's perfect. Specs goddamn brainwashed me into thinking I was fucking gay, but if I was, then why would I think about Tricia when I was with him? She's got beautiful amber hair, and bright gray eyes, and she and I meet for casual sex, because Blink won't fucking sleep with her. Goddamn him! She's so fucking gorgeous. What the fuck is wrong with him?! And she and I were kinda friends through him, and one day out of the blue she called me up to complain about him, because she said that he was fucking annoying her, none of her friends understood, and she thought I was hot and she was fucking horny. That was a month ago, and now she calls me whenever she needs a good fuck. Blink doesn't know, and while Specs knows that now I'm into a girl, he doesn't know who she is. Blink would go ballistic on me. And her. And we don't want that._

            Goddamn school's full of bastards.

            So I listened with half an ear to Blink's latest boring story, then went mindlessly through the period, then the rest of the morning. The whole time, I kept hearing my goddamn stupid-ass friends yelling their brains out down the hallway, yelling about this strike that they're convinced we're gonna have. No one's gonna join us. No one cares about the school fags.

            Which is another thing.

            I'm not gay.

            So why the _fuck did Pulitzer single _me_ out?_

            I tried to tell him, the fuckhead. I goddamn told him that I wasn't gay. He _laughed_ at me and told me that I was just trying to get out of it. Uh, yeah, I think I'd know if I was gay or not! YOU FUCKING PRICK! I shoulda kicked him in the balls.

            But he probably doesn't have any.

            Lunchtime always sucks the most. Ya know why? Cuz of Specs. He's always goddamn pouting and looking all sorrowfully at me, and then when I ignore him, he acts like I've committed some fucking cardinal _sin_ and then he talks loudly about me with Mush, who tries desperately to calm him down. Stupid fuck. I tried to be nice and let him down gently, but does he even appreciate _that? No, of course not. Because Specs only wants what Specs thinks he needs, and has no concern for other people's feelings. Does he think that it was _easy_ for me to decide that I'm not gay? And maybe I'm bi or something, but I don't know, and I'm so goddamn confused and he's fucking __not helping at all by being such a fucking baby!_

            Ex-boyfriends are a bitch.

            And Mush! There's another one for the history books. Goddamn loser! He keeps staring at me, like I'm some weird-ass relic in a museum, like I'm wearing some huge plaque that reads "The One Who Turned Straight" or something. He opens his eyes really wide whenever he sees me and looks me up and down, as if trying to figure how my mind works, how I transformed. Jerk-off.

            Then there's Race, who's gotta be the gayest straight boy on the planet. Good fucking Lord. His hair is _blue, for fuck's sake._

            I need to fucking get out of here.

            I hate my life.

            **FUCK.**

            I didn't realize I was mutilating my lunch, tearing it into pieces angrily, until that new kid who eats with us, Pinhead, brought it to everyone's attention. I'd been getting along with him, too. He's a strange kid, but we all are, really. And I liked his cursing, who-cares attitude. But when he laughed and hooted that I was eating like an anorexic girl, I fucking hated him, too. I looked up at him and glared, but by that time everyone was laughing, and he didn't notice. Goddamn prick. So I winded back, and punched the shit out of that fucking hippie-wannabe, tie-dye and sandal-wearing fucker.

            Then I stormed out of the cafeteria. I wondered which one of the fuckers at my table would be nominated by the others to come follow me, to see what was wrong, to try and comfort me. If it had been just last week, Specs would've punched Pinhead too, though he wouldn't have really felt angry at the kid, and then would have come hurrying after me. That's just the way Specs works.

            I kinda felt a weird half-yearning for Specs to be the one sent after me, though I knew that he'd refuse to come.

            Know who ended up coming?

            No one.

            No one fucking cared enough to come see why I was in such a pissy mood.

            What a great bunch of fucking hypocritical so-called "friends".

            I ended up sitting in front of my goddamn locker, my head in my hands, fucking _crying like a little girl. Like a little fucking two-year old girl! The bell rang for lunch to be over, and guys started crowding into the hallway from the cafeteria, tripping over me. I didn't fucking care. I didn't move. The next period started and the hall emptied, and still I sat there. No one bothered me. I wasn't surprised by that, though, really. It was choir, and since like a fourth of the school is in choir, no one takes attendance. Nobody would even notice my absence besides Taylor, the prick football player who sits next to me, and who would be happy for a day without me and my sweatshirt, which, as he tells me daily, "smells like ass."_

            The bell rang again, people swarmed around me, then it rang again and they left. Halfway through the period before I sensed someone approaching. I didn't look over as whoever the hell it was sat next to me on the floor.

            "Tough day, huh."

            I realized with a start it was the fucking new kid, the one I'd goddamn punched. Pinhead. Man, the kid sure lives up to his name. Nobody but a pinhead would sit down next to someone who so obviously hated him.

            I kinda grunted. Just cuz he cared enough to find me didn't mean I was gonna forgive him for being an asshole.

            He seemed to realize I wasn't gonna do much talking.

            "Ya know," he said, and I chanced a glance at him. He was staring at the lockers across the hall, not even looking at me. Good. At least the fucker knows his boundaries. "I bet it was really hard for you. To break up with Specs and all."

            I raised my eyebrows at his profile.

            _He's on my side?_

            What the _fuck?_

            "From what I hear, you two were quite the couple."

            Goddamn fucker.

            I turned away quickly, scowling.

            "Okay, that was the wrong thing to say," he said, and chuckled. "Listen, you fucker."

            I smirked. God, that kid's mouth.

            "Specs is really upset about it, that's fucking true. But I think it's goddamn horrible that nobody fucking cares about how upset you obviously are. I mean, God, people take themselves so goddamn serious around here."

            Yeah, so maybe the kid ain't so bad.

            "I know that we don't know each other at all. And maybe that's better. But ya know, I can sometimes fucking listen. Sometimes I can shut my goddamn mouth." He turned to me, and grinned. "Oh. Yeah. And I'm sorry for calling you an anorexic girl. My charm and kindness—" loud laugh there "—get me in a shitload of trouble."

            God. How the hell did this kid get here? He's too nice to be in this school with all these other fuckheads.

            He pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off his ass. "Well, I can see you really don't wanna talk right now…"

            I looked up at him. "Will you really just listen to me? Not judge, and just listen?" First time I'd talked all day. My voice was scratchy.

            He sat back down. "Hell, yeah."

            We sat out there the rest of the period. I was the only one talking. He really did shut his mouth, and just listened. He'd nod encouragingly when I'd falter, or pat my leg reassuringly. But he mostly just fucking listened. It felt like I hadn't talked in months, and I guess I really hadn't. It was the first time I'd opened up in such a long time. He didn't say anything when I started crying again, and he didn't attempt to change the mood with weird faces or anything. He was just there. And, goddamn it all, I needed that.

            The bell rang again, and kids tripped back out into the hallway. He didn't even move to stand up, though he'd probably get in trouble too if we were actually found just sitting there, skipping classes. But I was done talking by that time. The bell rang again and again silence reigned as kids left the hallway, their shouts echoing away. Pinhead shrugged at me. "Should we go to band?" he asked.

            I closed my eyes, my head aching. I couldn't face those fuckers. I'd have to look at Specs' goddamn pouting face all period, and I couldn't stand the thought of that.

            "Or should we just skip out?" he added.

            I looked over, and he was grinning.

            "I've got a full tank of gas in my kick-ass car," he offered. "And a blaring sound system, so we don't even have to talk if you don't want."

            I sighed in relief, thinking that there really must be a God, or else Pinhead wouldn't have ended up here. But I didn't say that. Instead, I stood up, and helped him up, too. "Sounds fucking awesome," I said, and smiled a bit.

            He grinned back. "I don't think I've seen you really fucking smile before, ya know?"

            I shrugged. "I ain't been in a smiling mood lately."

            We went out and climbed into his completely lame-ass car. It was a piece of shit. But he seemed proud of it, despite its rusty patches and the fact that the only thing keeping my feet from meeting the road through a large hole in the floor was a thin cardboard mat.

            "This is Shelly," he said, tapping the dashboard lovingly. "I worked all last summer for her."

            I laughed, grinning. "She's a beaut," I told him.

            He turned on the ignition and almost immediately, a loud rock song started playing. Sure enough, his sound system was fucking decibel-shattering. He lowered the volume a few notches and shouted over the noise, "I love this fucking song!"

            I nodded my head to the beat. I hadn't heard the song before, but it was good enough. "What group is this?" I shouted back.

            "New Found Glory," he yelled.

            "Oh," I said, nodding. I'd heard of them.

            He steered Shelly out into the road, cutting off an SUV, who blared their horn loudly. Laughing through his cursing, Pinhead stepped on the gas, and Shelly roared, sputtering down the road.

            We drove for a long while in silence, with only the loud bass pounding of the band keeping us company. The windows were down, but Pinhead explained that they were stuck down eternally. It worked as a good air conditioner, though, in the brisk air.

            He handed me a quarter at a stop sign. "Flip it," he instructed. "Heads, we go right. Tails, left."

            This game caught on, and soon we were pretty fucking lost. But who cared? Minutes turned to hours, and the sun had started to set. We had moved on to a different CD by now, by another group I'd heard of but didn't know their songs. I stared at the blood-red sun, angrily pushing its way toward the horizon.

            He leaned over and turned the volume down, nearly to silence, a tinny echoing accompaniment barely there. "So. Is it cool if I ask you something?" he asked.

            I looked over, and couldn't help but grin at the way his long red curls flew every which way in the wind, and how his teeth were chattering with the air, which had turned much cooler now. "Yeah," I said. "It's cool."

            "I'm just gonna say it. But you don't have to answer if you don't want to. Okay?" he said, looking at me with an air of seriousness. I nodded. "Okay. So whenever you talk about Specs, you're really fucking contradicting yourself. You talk about what a fucking prick he is, then in your next sentence, you treat him all revered, like he's your shitting savior or something. I know you're with this girl now—or at least fuck-buddies with her—but do you still have feelings for Specs?"

            I looked out the windshield, which had a small crack in it, and sighed. I paused, trying to think of how to answer.

            "Shit, I've offended you," Pinhead said, angry at himself. "Sorry, man. Don't worry about answering. I'm a fucking asshole. Sorry I brought it up."

            "No," I answered. "It's just… I don't know. Like, part of me still loves Specs, and misses him. Ya know? Like when I watch him parading around in all his feminine glory, my heart aches and I wonder why I hurt him like I did. But at the same time, I did the right thing. I _know_ I fucking did the right thing."

            "Oh. Okay. So… what, do you think you're bi then? Or what?"

            I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't even know. I love burying myself in her curves, I love the way she feels and smells and tastes. But I know she'll never be as much to me as Specs was."

            "It must totally suck to be you," Pinhead said, and he truly sounded sympathetic.

            "You haven't the faintest," I said dryly.

            I learned over and twisted the knob on his volume back up.

            He got the message. He didn't say anything else until he dropped me back off at the school. It was well past nine o'clock. He gave a friendly grin as my car, the sole auto in the parking lot, rolled into sight. "See you tomorrow, Dutchy. It's been fucking _real, man."_

            I grinned, pulling him into a hug. "Thanks for listening to me. No one's cared enough to do that in a long, long time."

            "Anytime, fuckhead."

            "See ya, shitbrick."

            I climbed out of his car and headed over to mine. Honking loudly on Shelly's dying horn, he pulled out of the parking lot.

            I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and went to unlock the door. The locks popped up. There weren't any lights in the parking lot, but I suddenly made out the silhouette of someone sitting in the passenger seat. Fighting a panicky feeling, I slowly opened my door, and the interior light turned on.

            "Have fun with your new bitch?"

            The angry sarcasm bit into me. "Hi, Specs," I said, wondering whether to be pissed or scared.

            "Don't 'hi, Specs' me," he said, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Mush said we need to talk. So I came to your car after school."

            "Fuckhead, why didn't you go home when you realized I wasn't coming?" I exploded, sitting in the driver's seat and starting my car, rolling my eyes.

            "Because I wanted to see where you were."

            His inane logic only frustrated me further. "How'd you get in?" I asked irritably. "I locked the doors this morning."

            He gave me a look like I was insane. "_Please_," he scoffed. "I've been breaking into cars with Snitch since we were in fifth grade… You know that."

            I peeled out of the parking lot and drove in the direction of Specs' house. "Your mother's going to be fucking pissed at you," I said.

            "I know."

            Then we lapsed into silence. But, unlike the silence with Pinhead, this one SUCKED. I pulled into his driveway after the longest five minutes of my life, and then we sat there.

            "I'm angry with you," he finally burst out.

            I nodded. "I fucking _know, you idiot. I'm not retarded."_

            "Yeah? Well, you sure act it," he scowled. "God, Dutchy, I fucking _love_ you! I'd give my entire fucking life to be with you. What happened to you?!"

            I couldn't bring myself to tell him what I'd told to Pinhead, that I still loved him and always would. Instead I shrugged. "I can't help the way I fucking am."

            "Fucking prick," he said, and angry tears spilled out his eyes. He suddenly reached over and wrenched my face to his. He planted his lips firmly on mine, and his tears mixed into my mouth with his tongue. One thing you can say for Specs, the kid can _kiss. All the years we'd spent together came flying back at me, and it nearly broke my fucking fragile heart._

            "Fucking tell me you didn't feel anything for me!" he demanded when he finally let my face go.

            I shook my head, steeling my nerves. "Go into the house, Specs," I said softly. "Your mother's watching from the window."

            He was shaking, and the tears weren't stopping. "You asshole!" he cried. "I fucking _hate you!"_

            He scrambled ungracefully out of the car, slamming the door loudly. He wobbled in his platform heels to his house, collapsing once out of sheer emotion. He flipped me off when he got to the door.

            "I fucking love you," I said aloud, watching the familiar brown, pink and green hair bob out of sight. I swallowed my own tears, licking my salty lips. They tasted like him.

            **FUCK.**

**]*[**

**it's a new day but it all feels old  
it's a good life, that's what i'm told  
but everything, it all just feels the same  
and my high school, it felt more to me  
like a jail cell, a penitentiary  
**[good charlotte's the anthem]

**]*[**

**[shoutouts!**

**Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ Drooldom is a WONDERFUL word! *giggle* So is Aaron Lohr… eh… yeah, don't mind me. ^_^ And yes, I constantly have "Addicted" by Simple Plan stuck in my head… O_O That's the song I play when I go running, because for some reason it makes me run faster… I think it's the part that goes "I'd run a thousand miles to get you" that really cinches the deal. ^^;; But then it gets stuck in my head for the rest of the day… oo-ee. Thanks for the review doll-face!**

**Seraph ][ Haha, Medda is kinda modeled off my junior high choir teacher… also a guy… who always wore lovely leisure suits from the 70s with disgusting pit stains and had a combover and was obnoxious as HELL. ^_^ I actually kinda like Wednesdays, but … the Jackie musie in my head told me Wednesdays suck. So I went with it. Haha! Thanks for the review!! The strike stuff will pick back up next chapter, when Davey, Jack, and Boots go to visit Spotty in Brooklyn…**

**Deejay Supastar ][ *giggles* Yus, writing naughty!mush is the most fun… I lurve his character, completely and utterly. ^_^ And I totally love my lj—I'm fricking addicted to it. I'm gonna go update it as soon as I get this chappy uploaded. :D**

**Ali ][ Happy Birthday In A Story! *throws a party complete with balloons and happy-faced newsie buttons* YAY! ^_^**

**hilaRyB ][ YOU GET HALF-DAYS ON WEDNESDAYS?! You SUCK! :P We don't get half-days, ever. LOL. Yay for Mush's outfit last chappy! ^_^;;;; It made me happy to have him in Rainbow Brite. Oh, you better be waiting for the "Neveh feah, Brooklyn is queeah!" line. Cuz it is gonna be SO good. *dances in a hyper, high-pitched fashion* ACK! I can't wait for it!! Oh don't worry about the supposed gay rape of Spot… all will be explained in due time *in mysterious fashion* Er… unless I forget about that part. In which case, it will just fade into uncertainty. ^_^ It was very nice of you to free the Little Newsie-Boys. *nods vigorously* See, I had to get Spot out of the hallway… because Spot doesn't have to pay the money yet. That's why he was being… yes. A communist. ^^; I'm glad for him throwing Kenny Ortega at your head, however… that was wonderful. There's no Les in my story, because I kinda don't like the kid AT ALL (I did write a short story the other day in which he killed himself, however… o_O It was kinda disturbing) Yus, I heart Specs. He's grand fun to write. He's such a drama queen. *big Mush grin* I love the "Newsies, Newsies, See All About It!" thingy!! Did you know that there is writing besides Aaron's name on his namecard that's in front of his books when they show that cupboard thing? It talks about McDonald's fries. O_O I can't remember exactly what it says anymore, cuz I haven't watched that thingy in a few months. But it's fuuuuuuuunny. I wish I knew what the inside joke about that was… it's something about the fries being fresh… *dies* I WANNA GO BACK IN TIME AND BE ON THE SET OF NEWSIES 24/7!!! *dies reading the end of your review* I LUFFLE YOU TOO HIL!! You are one of the all-time greatest. ^_^**

**GeckoPixie ][ Papers suck. DOWN WITH SCHOOLWORK! ^_^ Yes, I'm a big fan of Mush and his afro and his glittery afro. I think I have too much fun writing for feminine!mush. O_O Thanks for the review hun!!**

**Omni ][ I think ff.net has something against me… or maybe just the entire NJL… because it always either a) won't show my story or b) eats all the reviews from NJL members. O_o *punches ff.net in the metaphorical face* WHOO! I'm on Author Alert! *bounces* I find that spifferific. ^_^ I personally have nothing against Wednesdays, but Jack was dead set that he hates them. He was not up for negotiations. So then I had to make up reasons about WHY he hates Wednesdays. Because he wouldn't tell them. O_O Our choir sucks too… but we don't fist fight… I wish we did though! That would be quite amusing… ^^;; Haha "genious" is close… it's genius for further reference… *points to brain near the exploding point as it is too full* LOL! I've got too many words stuffed in my brain… Too bad the review sent, or else you could've screamed loudly. And that would be a fun story, m'dear… Thanks for the review Omns! I heart you!**

**Angel of Harmony ][ Thank you thank you thank you!! O_O *can't thank you enough* You're too nice! Honestly, all I do is steal the script of Newsies and shove it in present-day… and it's getting me some of the best reviews ever! *throws you newsies and roses and glitter* Mucho loves!**

**anon ][ Yeah, I have a habit of writing bastard!jack… but I decided to take a different route in this story. So if it seemed like he was gonna be bad in the first chapter, that's prolly cuz I was gonna make him bad. ^_^ Then I changed my mind. I seriously have no idea who Mush is gonna end up with. It's gonna be SOMEONE, I hope, but I don't know where the couples are gonna go… :D Thanks for the ideas though! And the review, too!!!**

**GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ Oh. Just you wait. JUST YOU WAIT. No, I do not like Jake. You'll see in a few chapters. *gleefully* JUST YOU WAIT. The let-down is coming. OHH it's coming. *dances* I think Newsies is cheesy… but that's why I love it! ^_^ Ack, running out of time, must leave other shoutouts… but mucho love to ya, Glimm! Hearts and flowers and Skitteries and all that jazz. ^_^ MUAH!**

**Ms. Lutells in Bio Class ][ I didn't even know that this plot was gonna be like Newsies until last chapter. *sweatdrop* Worked out nicely though, didn't it? ^_^ Yeah, yeah, Snitch'll get in there eventually… bleh bleh *giggles* Haha, j/j. Yeah, I never really noticed Snitch all that much until I met you… now I throw him in various places for kicks and giggles. ^_^ Thanks for the review Cutells Lutells! I heart you muchly.**

**Artemis-Chan ][ Thank you so much! Blast your mom not letting you read. ^_^;; Hahaha! Thanks for the nice reviews. I appreciate them so much—seriously. You're awesome!! Mad love and newsies and glitter will be arriving on your doorstep in, oh… *checks watch* Three days.**

**Gothic Author ][ Oh, I definitely think Newsies has some cheese factor in it… but that's definitely why I love it! ^_^ *dances* Thanks for all the compliments dahlink! Your review made me dance around happily for a while. Of course, that could also be because Mush put fire ants in my socks. O_O Silly boy. ^_^;;;;**

**Sita-chan ][ Thank you!!! *dances* Ah, yes, RENT has to be THE best thing ever. I quote it constantly, to the point of embarrassment… O_O I absolutely adore that show though!!! I don't know where I'd be without my RENT CDs… ^_^ Thank you muchly-mushly for your review!!!!**

**Falco Conlon ][ Thank you thank you! Yes, I added in the Pie saying Woo bit for Kez… even though she's grounded or whatnot… so if she reads it later she can be happy. *nods wisely* And I had to write around the musical quotes… haha!! Like I found a quote, then I'd have to try and work it into the plot… aye-yi-yi. Specs is one hard-to-please mother. ^_^ Thanks for the review Falco darling!!**

**Shortie ][ Yeah, isn't it amazing how I actually made it almost like the movie? *puffs up chest, uberproud of herself* LOL! I ramble a lot too… ^_^ Thank you so much for the review Shorts m'dear! I heart you. ^_^**

**rumor ][ Yes, everyone hates Mondays… which is why I made Jack hate WEDNESDAYS. ^_^ LOL yeah you and your dirty, polluted mind… silly silly rumorski. ^_^ Hahahaha yay for your rambly reviews!!! I heart them muchly-mushly. You are too much fun, Rumor. I luffle you dearly!! Thanks so much for the review hun.**

**GlitterPunk ][ Hey, did my review show up for Nocturn Elle? I'll have to check up on that… cuz I think it said it was experiencing site overload or something… *thinks* Ah well. Tell me if it didn't show, okay??? Good. ^_^ YAY FOR NEWSIES PARAPHRASING! You are one of the greatest, Shaders, and I heart you.**

**unnamed ][ I don't know! I would never ever ditch Mush. *hugs Mush tightly to show the truth in that statement* Hehe! Oh yes, this is gonna be grand fun… I have such PLANS for this story… *grins widely* LOL! Yes! Mad love to baby!mush!!!! Thanks for the review, hun!!!**

**Kitty ][ Spot is… *shrugs innocently* I dunno, you're gonna have to wait to find out! BWAHAHA! Thanks for the review hun!**

**:O) ][ Yeah, I have no idea where most of this stuff comes from… my mind is a scary place, dude. ^_^ Thanks for the review darling!! And I still love the lobster claws in the signoff. ^_^ I heart you muchly-mushly!!!!**

**geometrygal ][ Exams suck!!! Yeah, I'm done with high school as of today. *dances madly* WOOT! I graduate on Sunday, but that means a whole WEEK with no school. Yay!! Can you believe Clay didn't become Idol?! *dies* That makes me SO MAD… I love Rube and all, but STILL! CLAY! *pouts* He's so ADORABLE!! Blah, America doesn't know how to vote. But I guess we've always known that, eh? *points at list of presidents who have done wrong* Hahaha whoo I'm in a weird anarchist mood today. ^^ Thanks for the review hun! Loves to you too!**

**Nerikla ][ Thanks!!! Yeah, for once I didn't make Jack ubernasty… I'm kinda proud of myself on that fact. ^_^ wOOt! Thanks for the review and I hope you keep reading!!!**

**Lastly… to Misi… did you review for this? Cuz from how you reviewed "dead", it sounded like you did… but it's not showing up if you did?? *is confused* And if you haven't, now I'm making an ass of myself. BUT NO MATTER! I lurve you anyhow and I'll shout you out with or without a review. ^_^ MUCHO MAD LOVE TO MISI!**

**…end shoutouts! please review! mucho thanks.]**


	5. chapter five: walkin' mouth

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead, Logan and Enrique. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter five: walkin' mouth]**

[chapter written: june 21, 2003]

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**Pre-story author's note ][ Wow, these are becoming more and more frequent, aren't they? O_o Anyhow. I uploaded this once while forgetting to say this… Okay, when the boys get to Brooklyn… I'm not gonna lie. I have no idea what Brooklyn's like. I've never even been in the STATE of New York, much less NYC, therefore much less Brooklyn. I don't really care if it appears all fantasy-like and such. Okay, I care, but it's a needed plot device to draw the story into parallels somewhat with the movie. I don't care if the boys don't actually have docks, or if there's no way in HELL they'd go swimming… they do in my story, baby! ^_^ *looks amused at herself* So yeah. And thanks to everyone who sent out search parties for abt!davey. Without him, this uber uber strange chapter would not have been written. I also feel the need to point out that I wrote this at 1 am. It all made sense at the time…**

And I take NO credit for Logan. *shrugs* He's weird. And I promise he's not fleeting… he's gonna have a point. Yes. Okay. I'm done now.

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September 26, 2003

            I can't believe it. I can't believe it. I seriously, completely am in a state of shock.

            And I'm going to maim Cowboy.

            I'm also going to suggest to his aunt that she convince him to take up being a lawyer, because that kid can make anyone … and I mean, anyone … agree with his cockamamie schemes.

            He was so mad at Spot for, as he phrased it, "skipping out" on us. It really didn't surprise _me, though. Spot's an idiot and a backstabber and he likes ducking out of responsibility._

            Just my opinion.

            I've never seen Jack so anxiously furious at another person as when we learned that Spot had gone home to his mother in Brooklyn. Cowboy called him a coward, and told Boots and I that somehow, for some inane reason, we were the ones who had to come with him to Brooklyn to hunt Conlon down. I was vaguely surprised at his choice of accompaniment… Spot and I have never gotten along, because we both see ourselves as Cowboy's second-in-command (Spot thinks he is, but everyone knows that I really am). And why Boots? Boots is just a lowly freshman, and everyone knows that Spot finds himself "above" freshmen, although he is only a junior.

            I think that's really why Spot hates me – I used to be in the same grade and therefore the same classes as him, and we always vied for better grades. Then I skipped freshman year, and it was proved to him that I'm smarter than he is. So of course he'd hate me; Spot has issues with being second-best.

            Just my opinion.

            But I reluctantly agreed to go with Cowboy. I'd been with him on a trip to visit Spot in Brooklyn last summer (that _sure_ made Spot mad, he'd thought he'd have a whole week of being Jack's best friend, but since I was there, he didn't have a chance) and while my mom wasn't _wild_ about me going back, she adores Jack and somehow he conned her into letting me go.

            It was _supposed to be a weekend trip._

            But no.

            When Jack became hyped up on the telephone yesterday evening, Thursday, about our leaving, I was confused. "Cowboy, we still have another whole day," I reminded him.

            And he paused, then spoke to me like I was crazy. "No, we're leaving in an hour, dumbass," he told me.

            "We're what?" I gasped. "Jack Kelly! You said _nothing_ about missing a day of school." I began unpacking the few items I had begun to pack: my poncho, my galoshes, and my SPF 55 sunscreen… Mother has always told me to be prepared. "I'm not going, then. No way can I miss Advanced Placement Literature; we're reviewing _Huck Finn_ tomorrow for our giant test on Tuesday. No, Jack, I'm not going."

            "You're not?" he said, his wheedling tone of voice already in place. "But who's gonna hack into the school system then and give us excused absences?"

            "I don't know," I answered stiffly. "What makes you think I would've done that, anyway?"

            He ignored me. "And who's going to sit shotgun beside me in my new… Mustang… convertible…"

            "Boots?" I suggested halfheartedly. He knows I love riding in that convertible.

            I could practically hear him shaking his head. "You know Boots' mom, she won't let him ride anywhere but in the backseat with his seatbelt on and pool floaties on his arms, just in case I drive off a cliff."

            The disdainful note in his voice made me stiffen as I pulled my own pool floaties out of my suitcase, laying them on the bed beside my earplugs and bug spray.

            "Well, then. It will be awfully lonely driving," I answered him.

            "C'mon, pansy!" he pleaded.

            "Yes, calling me names definitely makes me want to rejoin you," I told him dryly.

            He mused aloud. "Maybe when we get to Brooklyn, _Spot_ will ride shotgun… and we can leave Boots at his ma's apartment, everyone knows Mrs. Conlon loves Boots…"

            The thought of Spot and Jack riding around Brooklyn, alone in Jack's convertible, made me squirm for reasons I'm not entirely sure of. All I knew was that Spot was _not going to ride shotgun and prove one up on me. __I am Jack Kelly's best friend. __ME!_

            Which is why I found myself in Cowboy's convertible two hours later.

            He was an hour late because he'd gone to get his car washed and dried and ended up getting it waxed and then had to drive around for a while to impress the girls around town. Stupid show-off.

            Just my opinion.

            Sarah watched out the living room window and squealed when Cowboy finally pulled up. "He's _here!" she screeched, abandoning her perch and flouncing over to me, dancing about me like a drugged-out Broadway star who's just gotten the lead. I would not have been surprised in the least had she gone into a singing-and-dancing routine complete with acrobatic stunts._

            She has a bit of a _thing for Cowboy._

            "Well?" she shrieked. "Aren't you going to go out to the car?"

            I raised my eyebrows at her over the top of _The Wall Street Journal_. "He's the one who's late," I answered. "He can come to the door and collect _me."_

            Jack decided to lay on the horn instead.

            Sighing loudly, I huffed out the front door and down the walk. "You owe me for this, Kelly," I said angrily. He didn't say anything, just popped the trunk. I stashed my suitcase in it, on top of Boots' X-Men duffel bag, then walked around to attempt to get in the car.

            Jack backed up before I could reach the handle.

            He grinned maniacally at me. Glaring at him, I walked after, reaching for the handle again. A second before I grasped it, he backed up again.

            "C'mon, Mouth," he simpered.

            Three more times before he finally let me in. I slammed the door rather hard as I sat back on the cool leather seat. "Hello, Boots," I said, plainly ignoring Jack.

            "Heya, Mouth," he said, sounding a bit preoccupied. He was trying to get some bright orange pool floaties off his arms, which was hard work because the seatbelt appeared to be attacking him, it was on so tight. "I swear, Ma puts superglue on these things or something…" he whined.

            "Hey, Davey," Cowboy said nicely, reaching over and patting my leg once before taking the car out of park (which he'd been _so kind_ to put it in while I got in the car… just my opinion) and reversing out of my driveway. He honked at my house and waved goodbye to Sarah, whose face was pressed against our front window's glass.

            "Hello," I said icily.

            "Oh, you baby," he grinned. "Lighten up, would ya?"

            I shrugged and looked away. But after about ten minutes of driving in silence, my bad mood lifted some. I think it had something to do with the mix of twangy country songs on the radio and the cheap-smelling little pine tree dangling from Cowboy's rearview mirror.

            Just my opinion.

            I checked the clock and then gauged how correct his time was compared to the sky, and decided I had probably an hour's worth of sunlight left. I opened my carrying case at my feet happily.

            "Getting out your computer?" Jack asked, looking sideways. "Gonna hack into the system tonight, huh?"

            I looked at him as if he was insane… which he is. Just my opinion. "No," I answered slowly, as if explaining to a two-year old. I enjoy patronizing him. "This is my portable file case."

            I unzipped it and it unfolded to produce twelve different slots, each of which was filled with color-coded pages. I removed the top three papers in the pink section.

            "You are _not telling me that you are doing homework when we have a three-day weekend," Jack groaned._

            I glared at him. "Well, since you _insist that we miss an entire day of school, what was I supposed to do? While waiting for your late sorry self, I called up my teachers and inquired as to what I would be missing tomorrow. I also took the liberty to acquire the assignments that you yourself will need to do to cover tomorrow. Boots, I retrieved your homework duties, as well."_

            Boots and Cowboy groaned so loudly, it probably sounded to other cars as if some animals had decided to die in our car.

            In my opinion, that is.

            "So, what, do you have every single teacher's home phone number or something?" Cowboy asked, rolling his eyes at me.

            I zipped up the file folder compartment carefully, then flipped my carrying case over and unzipped a pocket on the other side. The panel lifted away to exhibit all fifty-two teachers in our high school's business cards, complete with home phone numbers, addresses, email addresses, and cell phone and pager numbers.

            "Holy shit," Boots said loudly.

            "So, wait. If you didn't bring along your computer," Jack mused, "then how are we going to be excused tomorrow?"

            "Have you forgotten already that I have a mother inside the system?" I asked, groaning loudly.

            Cowboy's eyes sparkled. "Your mom said she'd cover for us? Excellent! Man, I thought you said your mom never lets you do that kind of stuff."

            "She _doesn't," I answered him loudly. "That is, unless Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly is in charge. One mention of your name and she turned into a simpering girl who could only be compared to the ditziness of Sarah." I rolled my eyes. "I swear, you must have used subliminal teachings on the female members of my family. They both adore you to no end." Just my opinion._

            Jack looked interested and murmured something like, "Good to know."

            I rolled my eyes again and took to ignoring him, reading over my _Huck Finn_ notes with extreme care. I suppose I must have nodded off, because the next thing I knew, the car had come to a screeching halt underneath some blaring white lights.

            "Mouth… Davey! Wake up!" Cowboy's voice was insistent, so I made myself open one eye into the fluorescent lights above me. We were at a gas station.

            "Huh?" I asked, and suddenly noticed that the sky was a very, very light shade of baby blue. "Jack, what time is it?"

            He cringed. "Oh, about 7:30…" he mumbled.

            "Seven-_thirty?" I screeched. "In the _morning_? Why aren't we in Brooklyn yet?"_

            He chuckled half-heartedly. "It seems I took a wrong turn… or a few… but don't worry! I already asked a guy inside, and he gave me directions. Look, I even wrote them down this time." He proudly held out a smudged napkin, with sloppy instructions written on it. "Now, uh… all I need is about twenty bucks…"

            I glared at him, and began fishing it out of my pocket. "Why, may I ask?" I said, counting through the cash in my fist.

            "Because I kinda filled up the gas tank… but I ran out of money…" he answered. "Thanks," he added, grabbing my fistful and counting it himself. He sprinted into the gas station to hand it over. I sighed and looked in the backseat. Boots had succeeded in getting the pool floaties off his arms, and was using them as a pillow. He was just the right height so that by curling himself up, he could just fit in the confines of the backseat. I looked out over the chill morning, rubbing my arms. Why hadn't Cowboy put the top back up at night?

            A loud school bus turned the corner, and I looked at it jealously. All those children inside, getting to go to school… And here I was, stuck in a gas station in who-knows-where with a cowboy and a human flotation device.

            Just my opinion.

            I looked down and realized that the papers I was holding were acting as a sort of flat bucket, catching the drool that had seeped out of my mouth. In disgust, I opened Jack's glove compartment, looking for a Kleenex to wipe them off. Leave it to Jack to not bring any along in his car… Grabbing a napkin, I absentmindedly began wiping at the papers, looking around at my surroundings. The gas station was empty, except for two motorcycles, which were parked near the building. One of the bikers was nowhere in sight, but the other was leaning upon his motorcycle, and he was eyeing the convertible right back. Catching my eye, he stood up and strode toward the car.

            I panicked. I locked my door, and began rolling up my window hastily, glad that Jack didn't have automatic windows, or else I'd have had to start the car to get the glass up. The motorcyclist had really long, lean legs. He was coming closer and closer. I cowered in my seat, hoping to become invisible.

            He paused beside the window. I didn't look over, but became immediately immersed in my notes again. My heart was pounding in my ears.

            "Ya know, locking the door and rolling up the windows doesn't really do much when the top of the convertible is down," he said slowly, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. My eyes widened at my notes. _Damn! I forgot the top was down…_

            "But don't worry. I won't take offense that you thought I was someone you need to be protected against, because you're a cutie." He leaned over the slight glass pane and ruffled my hair.

            My breathing sped up. How dare he touch me! How did I know where his hands had been? He'd probably just transferred fleas and lice to me, not to mention measles and mumps and syphilis… I kept my eyes trained on my papers, trying to stop my hands from trembling so badly.

            His hand trailed down my cheekbone, catching under my chin. He gently but powerfully put pressure on my face, then tilted it to the side and upwards so that I had to look up at him.

            He had long hair, dark brown, framing his face with wind-created curls and tangles. His eyes were the same color brown, contrasting greatly with his lightly tanned face. He smiled, and his teeth were unbearably white, matching the screaming lights creating a fluorescent halo about him.

            "That's it. You _are a beauty, aren't you?" he said softly._

            And I wondered that I wasn't losing whatever slight sanity I still had.

            "What are you—" I sputtered, finally gaining control of my voice again.

            He let go of my face, but leaned over the glass and caught hold of the window handle. My eyes immediately flew to his hand as he began rolling down the window. My thoughts were screaming at me to get away, get out of the car, kick the guy in the groin, grab Boots, get inside the gas station, make Jack go out and kick the guy's ass…

            But I didn't.

            I didn't even say anything.

            Because part of me was curious as to what this boy… this man… this… _sir_ was attempting to do.

            Finally the glass was down in its bed again, and his hand rested idle on the handle. I swallowed a great lump in my throat, and continued to stare at the hand, as it raised itself up, then reattached itself to my blue-jeaned leg.

            My hand started shaking again.

            His left arm snaked over my shoulders, then grabbed hold of my neck and twisted me toward him. He leaned down so that we were on eye-level, and he leaned in… _Oh, God, what's taking Jack so long?… a centimeter away… __He was only gonna pay for gas… Eyelids fluttered closed over those dark brown eyes, and, as I stared at him in shock, he unhesitatingly kissed me._

            I tried to pull away immediately, felt my shoulders seize up and my leg muscles go rigid. He kept his firm hold on me, somehow simultaneously managing to massage my leg. Jack was gonna come outside, oh, _God_, Jack was gonna see this and what the hell would he say… what could I say to defend myself… make him let go of me, oh, _GOD_! Jack can't see this!

            "Hey. Logan. C'mon, dude, let's go."

            A foreign voice to me, but it seemed to frighten my attacker, who let go of me and straightened up. I looked over too, and saw Jack and another guy leaving the gas station at the same time. They were laughing and grinning at each other, and Jack wasn't acting like anything was wrong, even though I knew that he'd seen me. The guy I didn't know adjusted his gaudy belt and looked a bit annoyed as he called to "Logan" again.

            "I'm coming, I'm coming," my attacker said, looking back down at me. I stared up at him, wondering what I was supposed to say. Are you supposed to thank someone for kissing you? Even if you didn't want to be kissed?

            Logan winked at me. "See you in Brooklyn," he told me, then sidled from the car just as Jack walked up. They exchanged friendly nods, then Jack climbed in the convertible and started the engine.

            I coughed a little. What in hell was I supposed to say?

            But Jack didn't seem to care about that. "DAVID ALAN JACOBS!" he yelled loudly. "What the hell? Why did you use my _direction manual_ to wipe off your stupid notes?" He angrily grabbed the napkin out of my hands, the one I'd been using to clean up my drool on my notes. I hadn't even realized it had been the one with Jack's directions on it.

            "Hey! Enrique!" he shouted loudly. The guy I didn't know with the horrible belt looked up. Jack continued yelling. "Can we follow you to Brooklyn? Dumbass here just ruined my directions."

            Enrique looked at me like I was the stupidest person on the planet. Logan laughed beside him. Enrique finally nodded, starting up his motorcycle. He and Logan pealed out, and Jack followed hastily behind.

            The two cyclists pulled some pretty stupid traffic stunts (in my opinion), and Cowboy kept right along with them. I caught myself staring at the back of Logan's head. How did Jack know these guys? Had they planned this? Why, oh _why_, did that boy kiss me? Does he think I'm a girl? Do I _look like a girl?_

            "So," Jack said around noontime, flipping the volume on the radio down. "You and Logan… uh… looked a bit cozy…"

            "He kissed me," I said bluntly. "I tried to make him stop, but he wouldn't."

            "Okay," Cowboy said, in a tone that clearly spelled out that he didn't believe me.

            "I swear it, Cowboy!" I said, angry that he didn't believe me. "Look, you whisper one word of this to _anyone… especially Spot… and I will __kill you."_

            I could tell he wanted to keep egging me on, but for some reason bit back his response. "Yeah, yeah," he said, and then I realized why. For the first time that day, Boots was finally awakening in the back seat. He let out a mighty yawn, and it was the end of Cowboy's and my conversation.

            It took a long time to get to Brooklyn. Who knows where Jack had ended up taking us… but it did give me an awful lot of time to do my homework assignments. I was quite pleased with the progress I'd made when we finally crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

            We lost Enrique and Logan on the Bridge, but that was okay, because obviously we knew our way from there. Jack drove expertly and idiotically—just like all drivers in New York City who know what they're doing—and we were soon at Spot's mom's apartment building.

            Jack parked up the street in a garage, and we walked to the building. It's kinda shabby, but Mrs. Conlon's apartment's really nice. Jack didn't even bother buzzing up before taking to the stairs… the security's really kinda lax in this building. In my opinion, that is. We went up flight after flight of stairs, finally coming to a halt in front of the door that proclaimed "The Conlons" in crayon near the bottom. I knew from our last stay that that had come as a battle wound from a crayon-happy three-year old Spot.

            Jack pounded on the door, and it creaked open after a few moments. A tired-looking woman peered out, looking (in my opinion) much older than the last time I'd seen her. "Hello, Mrs. Conlon," Jack said sweetly, embracing her and kissing her cheek. "You look more beautiful every time I see you."

            "Jack," she said, going into that swooning thing that all mothers seem to do around Cowboy. "How lovely to see you!"

            "Is Spot around?" Cowboy questioned, grinning winningly at her.

            She shook her head. "Not just right now. I believe he went to the docks."

            Jack raised his eyebrows. "I thought he came home to take care of you," he accused.

            She ducked her head. "He's a sweet boy, but he needn't have come home when all I had was a little cold. I told him that I needed a day of rest and practically kicked him out to the docks today. The public school is having the day off because their water system broke, so I expect there will be other boys down there too."

            "All right, then that's where we're headed," Jack said. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Conlon. I hope we'll be back later to visit more before heading home."

            "That would be lovely," she nodded. "Have a nice day, boys!" She nodded kindly at the three of us, and waved as we left.

            The docks aren't so far from Spot's building, so we decided to walk down there. Boots kept looking around himself anxiously. He's never been to Brooklyn before, and while he does know Spot's mom, it is only because she comes to visit Spot three times a year.

            "So why does Spot go to school with us instead of in Brooklyn, again?" Boots asked, sidestepping to avoid knocking over a woman who was charging down the middle of the sidewalk, talking to herself and not moving for anyone.

            "Because Spot's dad—who's a bastard if I ever met one—insisted upon it," Cowboy answered. "Spot's mom ain't so well off, ya know, but his dad's got mad cash. And while he didn't exactly help out with child support and the like when Spot was a kid, he said he was gonna make up for it by sending Spot to some elite high school. Apollo's just the cheapest of the elite schools, I guess."

            We walked a little while more, until coming to the docks. Now, it's not exactly the warmest September we've ever had, and judging by the fact that it's late in the month, the water must have been extremely cold. Yet boys will be (stupid) boys, and boys from Brooklyn are, in my opinion, even stupider than regular boys, because they were jumping off the docks into the Hudson River.

            Idiots.

            Watching them was a boy resting on a raised bit of dock, sitting atop some empty crates that swayed dangerously with his weight. Other boys scurried about him as if he was royalty. I shook my head in disbelief. He could still pull that, here in Brooklyn. Lucky stiff.

            When he caught sight of the three of us, his look changed from one of relaxed superiority to shock. "Jack?" he asked incredulously. "Jack Be Nimble, Jack Be Quick? Jackie-Boy? What the hell are you doing here?"

            Cowboy grinned. "Hey, Spot." He waited while Spot tried to gracefully slide off the crates (unsuccessfully, I might add. He came across looking like a toad—in my opinion). When Spot approached, they both spit in their hands and then shook hands. I made a face at the transference of germs. Unfortunately, they picked up the habit when they first met.

            Bit of a stupid habit, in my opinion.

            "What the hell are you three doin' here in Brooklyn?" Spot asked, and his Brooklyn accent was even more pronounced than usual. I guess being surrounded by the accent makes it stronger.

            "We came to talk to you about the strike," Cowboy answered.

            Spot was already shaking his head, as if he'd guessed that that would be Jack's response and already didn't buy it.

            "Listen, Spot," I said, barging in. Both Jack and Spot looked amazed. Usually I avoid all talking with Spot. But this was important to Jack… and what better way to prove I was a better friend to him than to explain it to Spot as if he were a small child? "Pulitzer's being unfair. And we need to make a difference."

            "Yeah, so I've heard you all say." Spot glared at me. "And?"

            "And… well, how are we supposed to get the rest of the school to join in our strike if we can't even get _you to join?"_

            "What's _that supposed to mean? That I'm stupid, stupider than all of the other people in the school?"_

            In my opinion, yes.

            But I didn't tell him that.

            "No. It means…" I took a deep breath. "It means that since you're one of Jack Kelly's best friends…" I felt a deep pain in my side. "I mean, maybe even his very best friend… well, if _you won't join us, then how are we supposed to convince other people?"_

            Spot smiled at me, satisfied. He liked me saying that he was above me on Jack's scale of friendship. "Well, Davey's got a point," he said. Jack beamed. "But I can't just abandon my morals, either. I mean, what if I agree to go with you, and then you all split up? If I'm going along with this, it's gotta be cement-thick in guarantee that it's gonna go through."

            "Well, I'm telling you that we're gonna stick together," Jack told him.

            Spot eyed us. "That ain't good enough, Jack." He was taking pleasure in this, and he made sure his eyes were trained on me, so I could see just how happy this made him, to know he had the upper hand.

            Jack sputtered in disbelief. "What?!"

            "You gotta _show me."_

            Cowboy's eyes narrowed, and he flipped on his heel. Boots shrugged and followed him. I swallowed and moved to leave, too.

            Spot caught my shoulder with a loose hand. I looked back at him, hoping to death that he wasn't about to smack me for talking to him.

            He fingered my neck, and I winced, realizing it hurt, like I had a bruise. Then I remembered Logan twisting my neck, and figured maybe I _did_ have bruises.

            Spot confirmed my thoughts. "I see you've met Logan," he said, smirking.

            I stared at him, my mouth open. "What? You know—" Something dawned on me as I noticed a thumb-shaped bruise on the side of Spot's neck, too. He nodded when he saw that I understood.

            "Looks like we got more in common than we thought," he whispered to me, and his voice was deep and throaty and sent shivers down my spine. I turned from him and hurried down the dock, shuddering, feeling the spidery feeling of ghost fingers from where Spot's hand had touched my shoulder.

            Almost to the end of the docks, a boy stuck out a long leg and tripped me. I cried out as I fell to the wooden planks. I looked over in aggravation and saw sunlight playing off dark brown hair… I rubbed at my eyes, sure it was a hallucination.

            "Heya, Pretty-boy," he called.

            Crying out, I scrambled to my feet and ran after Jack. And away from Logan.

            The horrors of Brooklyn are nearly as numerous as their whores.

            At least, in my opinion.

**]*[**

**and now i know just why she  
keeps me hanging round  
she needs someone to walk on  
so her feet don't touch the ground  
**[the monkees' she]

**]*[**

**author's note ][ Yeah, I have no idea where Logan came from. And no, it's not *my* Logan, either. He's just… I have no idea. And I don't know where that part came from, or where it's going. Aiesh. Stupid pushy characters in my brain… I rather like Enrique though, with his gaudy belt. ^_^**

**[shoutouts!**

Thank you, you guys. You've been truly spectacular reviewers. 101 reviews after only chapter four?! Thanks so much. Review #100 belonged to Sparker, who gets a johnnybravo!newsie of her choice. *giggles* Thanks again, everyone. ^_^;; And now to the actual shoutouts…

Gothic Author ][ Yeah, I know! It really surprised me, because I was gonna have Dutchy all normal and a bit strange, yes, but relatively chipper… but my dutchinski!muse had other plans, and he was cursing up a storm… O_O Aie! Don't get on his bad side, I guess. ^^ Specs… yes, bitchy is a VERY good word to describe him. Aha! Thanks for the review, sweets. ^_^;;

Mush's Skittles Can't Count ][ Ain't it weird? Pinhead and Racetrack were gonna be my only truly!swearing newsies, and then Dutchy decided he wanted to join the fun world of cussing as well. O_O Strange kid, that Dutchy. Yeah, Blink's girlfriend is quite a character… wait til ya meet her. *nods impressively* She's kinda strange, that one. And her name was Christa in chapter two, but I forgot I named her, so I named her Tricia in chapter four, and it was only in re-reading that I realized she already had a name. So I gotta fix it. Bleh. I like the name Christa more, but she's Tricia now, so it's gonna stick. Haha, we're gonna teach you numbers… me and crayon!mush. *nods* Okay. One, two, THREE, four… ^_^ *darts away before Itts can smack her* Haha it's kinda weird to put the movie in… I did it AGAIN! But I'm not sure how much of the movie's plot I actually want in there… like do I *want* to send Crutchy to the Refuge? Ack, I don't know what to do, really… Oh well. Thanks for the reviews hun!! And I'm sorry you couldn't count! ^_~ I lurve you!

Artemis-Chan ][ There is NOTHING worse than ff.net smiting you by "experiencing overload". I wrote an email to the site's maintainers telling them that their "improvements" aren't working and they need to get their asses in gear. -_-;; LOL they didn't email me back… wonder why. Ack, I like Race's blue hair too! I keep trying to get Raceytracky (my Race muse) to dye his hair, but he just calls me "damned woman" and swats at me before running out of the room. But alas, I can't make all of the newsies be nice to EVERYONE because, in reality, NO ONE likes EVERYONE (except perhaps for crayon!mush, who DOES love everyone). I asked Dutchinski if you could have his sweatshirt, but he refused, so here… *hands you abt!dutchy who comes glued in his sweatshirt* I might need him back in the future if he has another chapter, but he's yours now. *is actually quite glad to have the cursing bugger off her hands* Hey, something in common—my boyfriend last year broke up with me over ICQ. Stupid instant-messaging-breaking-up boys… *growls* But the good thing was, that you can forward ICQ messages… so I sent it to all of his friends (who were my friends too, through him) and showed them what a jerk he was. Twas grand. *dances* LOL! Thanks for the review, hun!

Pyromaniacal Llama ][ Yes, yes, Dutchy *does* like the word "fuck". Thanks for the review hun! I hope you keep reading.

Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ *imagines Dutchy suddenly becoming an old-fashioned telephone, complete with the rotary-style dial and an uber!long cord* Oooh, he's so TWISTED… :D Ooh! Another chocolate covered Mush! *squeals excitedly and shoves him in the corner-of-Mushness with her other Mush's* Did you know that Cardsy gave me a shirtless!swifty the other day? Oh, YEAH. I was tres happy. ^_^ Awww, Mushy would be so cute licking chocolate off himself… *swoons at the thought* ACK! I wonder if Aaron LOHR would lick chocolate off himself… *zones out into daydream* ::three hours later:: Uh… thanks for the visual images Estee!! *mad grin* Thanks for the review babe!

Stage ][ Wahoo! I'm glad! Yay for favorite chapters! Know what *my* favorite chapter is of Paper Angels? Itey's. Yup. In case you cared. (stage: I don't.) Mondie: Damn. ^_^;; Yes, yes, I'm liking Dutchy too. Not as much as I like flamer!specs, though. Specs just makes me giggle and chortle and spit out my French fries when he talks in my ear. … *suddenly realizes why people look at her strange all the time* LMAO! Thanks for the review hun!

Polecat who doesn't wanna Log in ][ Yes, Dutchy sounds like everyone I know on their bad days… hehe. I think that's where he came from… poor Dutchinski *gives him a cookie to make up for the fact that he's the badday!newsie* LOL! I know, poor Specsie… no one loves him… *cries* I DO! ::ahem:: Uhh… yeah. ^_^ Thanks for the review Poley!! Muah.

rumor ][ I seriously have to set my alarm clock for two hours before I wanna actually get up because I hit it without waking up. And to actually get me up, after two hours of that buzzing noise every nine minutes, I set my TV to go off at the actual time because that one *does* wake me up. I call it my Gradual Awakening Ritual. I bet my roommate is gonna KILL me next year because of it. *hopes to death that she gets late classes so she doesn't HAVE to get up early and therefore doesn't NEED the Gradual Awakening Ritual* LOL! Yes, cheating is bad, but Dutchy doesn't particularly care, I don't think. ^^ He just cares about the sex. *nods* Silly Dutchinski. I am immensely in love with the fact that Pinhead is in love with his POS car and thinks it's wonderful. *giggles until she dies* I lurve writing that kid, really I do. Yay! Thanks for your review, Rumor m'dear!! I heart you.

hilaRy ][ Hmm… since I write my shoutouts in the order I get them, I go up the page… and as I scrolled and scrolled and SCROLLED, I was like, Who could this be but HILARY! *laughs* LOL! I love your reviews so much!! Yes. ::ahem:: *holds up hands innocently* I didn't make fun of Mickey Mouse! Dutchy is just a bit angry at… his childhood? *shrugs* I dunno. But yes… he's apparently not a Mickey fan. I dunno, he dictated, I just wrote. Yay for the smell of warm! *dances* Yay for your classroom scene… *giggles nonstop* Too cute, dearie. And, ooh, your scream at Dutchy about him being an ex-boyfriend too… interesting point! I hadn't thought of that. *looks interested* That made me think. *is glad at least Pinhead is still good in hil's eyes* YAY FOR ME MAKING YOU ANGRY! *dances* Wow, that sounded strange… a-ha. ^_^ Thanks for the review Hil doll, and more Vaudeville? Please?

Seraph ][ Thanks! Yeah I know, I feel sorry for them too. *pats all her newsies on the head and offers them cookies to make up for destroying their lives* Thanks for the review hun!

Kitty ][ Good! Getting you to feel for both characters was the intention. ^_^ I'd give you a Pinhead, but hilaRyB already stole one of them and I need the others right now… remind me at the end of the story and I'll give you one then. ^_^ Yes, ff.net sucks majorly. It's always "overloaded" and such. *kicks ff.net* Thanks for the review doll!

geometrygal ][ LOL it's okay, I know you didn't *mean* the "bitch" comment… *tries to hide her tears* LOL j/j! Yay! I'm so glad you like Dutchy again. Phew! I can't decide whether I like him or not… but oh well. Yay for the dancingmadlybecausemondiegraduated!dance! ^_^ One of my favorite dances of all time, I think! Haha! Yes, yes, Ryan/Clay all the way. They'd be so CUTE! ^_^;; *looks amused* I think it's funny that Clay outsold Ruben in singles… shows who SHOULD'VE won ::ahem:: ^^ Thanks for the review babe!

BitterSweet ][ Actually, it's really weird for me to write this way, because I normally don't cuss. ^_^;; If I do, like when I drop stuff at work, all my co-workers stare at me and then at each other incredulously. I think I just sound stupid when I cuss, like I can't pronounce the words correctly or something. It just sounds weird coming out of my mouth. Haha, I'm strange. My school doesn't even HAVE gay guys who are out, but I do know some of them who are still in the closet. But you'll have that, living in uber!conservative Ohio. *wrinkles nose* Hairspray would be such fun to do!! I'd be happy being Tracy, I'd wear a pillow. ^_^ Lead roles are fun, no matter what. But yeah, Penny's part in "Mama, I'm A Big Girl Now" is the BEST—"Ma, I gotta tell you that without a doubt, I get my best dancing lessons from you. You're the one that taught me how to twist and shout, because you shout nonstop and you're so twisted too!" LMAO I crack up at that every time. What's up with you and Benji?? *looks shocked* And yay for generated emails!! *grins madly* Too funny. I have to work tonight, I don't wanna… bleh. Only two more days of work this week, though. **rolls eyes** It's sad, because Jason, who is my fave dishwasher, had a brother who used to be in my grade in junior high and he died the other day… it's so weird, because Kelly (the brother) was so funny and I remember thinking that in like 8th grade. He wasn't particularly smart or classy or anything, and he was the kind of kid that the preps stayed away from, which probably made him cooler in my eyes, but I can't believe he's gone… and so now like half of our employees who knew him too have been calling off work and so the rest of us are working mucho overtime. My friend Kyle has put in over 70 hours… *is glad she is not Kyle* Anyhow. Thanks for the review hun!

misprint ][ I don't know why, but ff.net never seems to save your reviews to me anymore. *kicks ff.net* Evil evil site. Anyhow. MAD LOVE BACK! I'm glad that you got the confusedness of Dutchy. He's really a good guy, he's just confuzzled and yes. *feels sorry for Dutchy* I lurve Pinhead, too. I'm thinking about writing a non-newsies non-fanfic story ::listens to the gasps:: and having Pinhead be in that… Oooh! Mad love and chocolate, eh? *grins madly* LOL Thanks for your review Misi Darling! I miss you being in the NJL. You need to come back. Uh… now.

unnamed ][ Yes, but see Dutchy doesn't KNOW about Spot… no one does… *can't wait until the explosive chapter where it all blows up in everyone's face* WOO HOO! LOL. Good! I'm glad that I'm getting everyone to feel all conflicted toward Dutchy. I felt sorry for the guy, when everyone hated him after Specs' chapter. And he's really just a confused, normal teenager who has no idea what he wants. Thanks for the review hun! How'd finals go?

GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ I love you too! *laughs* Yes, _Newsies_ is cheesy… but no worries, cheesy movies are my absolute faves. In fact, non-cheesy movies often aggravate me. A-ha! I'm glad you love Dutchy because you love Dutchy. *nods* Thanks for the review hun!!

Frogger No Baka ][ Did you know that I have never made myself think of a mongoose? ^_^ Interesting, I know. Yeah, I'm not usually into the "movie in present-day" fics either, but this story just decided it needed it. *shrugs* I'm not arguing, a plot is a plot. And it's more than my fics usually have. Usually they just wander about until I discover a plot bunny around chapter five. *nods wisely* You rock too, Froggieoggie. You're too fun for words. ^_^

Copper bandit ][ Wow! Thanks! *grins* It's really nice of you to say all these kind things. The voices of the different characters are I'm thinking too much alike, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it. Bleh. ^_^ Yeah, I haven't decided if Jack's gonna be gay or not… and don't even BOTHER asking me what Logan's doing in this story, because I have no idea on that, either. I don't even know if Davey's gay or not. Aie. -_-;;; But ah well! Thanks for the awesome review, I hope you keep reading!

Alexandra Paige ][ ACK! When I saw the review name, I was like, WTF? And then I was confused because you were talking like you knew me… then I finally realized it was Shorts. ^_^ Way to confuse me dear! Yay for squealing!shortie! I think you're awesome too, babe. ^_^ Pinhead rocks my world, too. :D Thanks for the review hun! And next time, I hopefully won't be confused by your new nameness. Mad love!

Sparker ][ Hey, better late than never!! :D Yes, Dutchy enjoys the cussing. He's a cutie though, so I'll forgive him. Haha, I know, I'm not sure WHEN I decided that I was gonna incorporate the movie… but it's working. So who knows… ^_^ ACK! My Internet JUST disconnected itself. Stupid pos… two seconds from the end. Don't it figure? Anyway, thanks for the reviews hun!! I luffle you!

…end shoutouts! please keep reviewing! thanks! mad love…]


	6. chapter six: bumlets

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead, Logan and Enrique. Disney and respective families own the newsies. J. K. Rowling owns the _Harry Potter_ series and the power to make children read as portrayed in this chapter. The characters' portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's with some vague helpings by Disney. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter six: bumlets]**

[chapter written: july 5, 2003]

**Mucho mad love to _Mush's Skittles_, who read through and gave me comments and is just awesome because our lives are parallel. Mad love hun! I heart you!!! I'm glad we got to talk last night cuz it's been FOREVER!**

**]*[**

September 27, 2003

            I was lying on my back, spread-eagle, when Mom called up the stairs at me. "PEEE-TER!" she yelled, incorporating her talent for prolonging words until my name stretched the barrier of thirty syllables.

            "Yeah?" I yelled back, raising my eyes from the book that I held above my face.

            She pretended like she hadn't heard me. "PEEE-TER!" She likes me coming downstairs when she yells my name so we don't have a shouting conversation, or so she says. I sighed, then put a bookmark in _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ (the best of the series so far) and jumped down off my top bunkbed. I stumbled to my stairs, and scuttled down them as gracefully as I could, considering they're weak little stairs leading up to the attic through my sisters' closet. I chose the attic room when my family first moved here. It's a little warm in the summer and a little cold in the winter, but it's privacy, which is something you don't often get in a family of sixteen. Yes, sixteen. Three older brothers (Tom, Charlie, and Marcus), who are all away at college, then my older sister Darlene (well on her way to becoming a townie), then me, then the younger kids: Michelle, Marlene, Michael (who are triplets), Alexis, Dallas, Larry, Will, Trudy, and Alice. Not to mention my folks.

            At the bottom of the stairs, standing in the middle of some of the girls' laundry, was my mom. She was really pretty when she was younger (I've seen pictures), but with all of us kids, she's gotten a little wrinkled and a lot gray. She had her hands on her hips and was standing in her usual stance of suspicion, with her feet spread apart to give her more power. But an uncharacteristic smile was on her face, and she raised one of her hands to tousle my hair. I weaseled out of her grip, exclaiming, "Mom!" She doesn't seem to understand that my shiny black hair is just about the only thing going for me.

            "Peter," she said, and her voice was soft and happy. She pointed across the room, to where an off-the-hook telephone receiver stood unattended and unguarded. Alexis and Trudy were across the room playing with Barbie (which meant Alexis had been conned by Mom into watching Trudy), and Alice was nowhere in sight. Marlene, Michelle, and Darlene have another room across the hall. I wondered which of the girls the call was for, and thought with a sigh that I'd left my shoes up in my attic. If Mom was going to ask me to go fetch one of them from outside or wherever, she should've told me while I was upstairs. _This_ is why I would rather she permit our shouting conversations; it would be much more convenient…

            "Peter," she said, shaking my shoulders. "The phone's for _you_."

            I stared at her for a moment, then shook my head. "No one calls for me."

            "Yeah," Alexis called, looking up with a falsely innocent smile. "Petey doesn't have any friends."

            "He's an outcast," said Trudy importantly. I wondered which one of the older siblings had taught her _that word. Most likely Alexis herself._

            "A loner," Alexis agreed. She looked at Trudy and they both giggled. Alexis made sure to add, "A _loser!"_

            "We get it, we get it," I said crossly. Angry as I was, I had to admit they were right. I am a loser.

            I'm okay with it, though.

            "Well?" Mom said, ignoring the girls. "Aren't you going to answer it? It's a boy, and he asked for Bumlets, and I remembered that you told us that the kids at school call you that—"

            "It's not an _honor, Mommy," Alexis, who's awfully shrewd for a freshman, called. "They call him that because they're making fun of him."_

            Mom ignored her again. "Go get the phone!" she hissed at me.

            I walked across the room, tripping on some of Alexis' clothing on my way. "Why don't you clean this room up?" I asked her, as I neared the phone. My heart was pounding, although that's stupid. Nobody normal gets this happy because of a phone call, I reminded myself. I was glad it wasn't a girl that called, because I'd probably have an instant hard-on or something.

            Wow, I really am a loser.

            "Hello?" I said. Mom, Alexis, and Trudy all watched me closely.

            "Hey… Bumlets?"

            "Yeah?" I asked, trying to place the voice. Maybe Racetrack? Oh, I hate how everyone's voices get distorted by the phone.

            "Sorry, I keep forgetting what your voice sounds like… anyhow… well, we're having a little get-together tonight, to organize the strike and all… ya wanna come?"

            A grin broke over my face before I could censor it. "Yeah!"

            Michael, two years younger than me, and one of the triplets, came gallumping down the hallway in that offbeat manner he has. He stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Mom," he started saying, then caught sight of everyone watching me on the phone. "Dude! Pete got a call?"

            "Shh!" Mom said, beaming. I was surprised she didn't go running down the hallway for the video camera, honestly.

            "Would everyone please leave the room?" I asked loudly. "You don't all need to watch me talk on the phone!"

            "We were here first," Alexis told me. "It's our room, anyhow." She stuck out her tongue. Trudy copied her.

            "No, no, he's right!" Mom chirped. "Everyone out!" She grabbed the girls by their collars and practically threw them in the hallway, simultaneously shepherding out Michael. She gave me a little wave before shutting the door.

            Man, every member of my _family are losers, too._

            "Sorry, my family's stupid," I said.

            "Don't worry about it, isn't everyone's?" the person on the other end said. Oh, now he was sounding more like Walkin' Mouth. Or maybe Mush?

            "Yeah." Great. Someone finally calls me, and I have nothing to say. No wonder I don't fit in anywhere.

            "So. The party tonight is at Blink's mom's. Know where that is?"

            "…No?"

            "Okay. Do you know where Snipeshooter lives?"

            "Vaguely…" I used to deliver pizzas, back before I wrecked my car, and the Brooks' house was a frequent stop. Apparently they're not much for cooking there.

            "Okay. That's Blink's mom's house. They're stepbrothers."

            "They are?" I asked incredulously. "I didn't know that!"

            "They don't like to advertise it," Anonymous Caller told me. "Anyhow. It's on Bacherut Lane."

            "Oh, yeah," I said, and it sounded familiar. "I think I remember where that is."

            "Okay. I'm sure there'll be tons of cars outside, anyway."

            "Yeah. What time?" I asked.

            "Oh, yeah. I almost forgot to tell you!" A loud laugh. I was almost convinced it was Mush… but it could've been Pie Eater, too. "7:00 is when everyone's supposed to meet, so be sure to be there by 7:30, which is generally the time at which everyone will _really arrive."_

            "Gotcha. Thanks."

            "No problem. See ya there."

            I was left with a hang-up signal buzzing inconveniently in my ear, and I hung up my end slowly. I couldn't believe the wave of euphoria washing over me. And, ridiculously enough, I hadn't even realized how lonely I'd been getting.

            I headed back up to my attic room after yelling to the girls that they could have their room back. I sat down on my bed and looked at my Harry Potter book beside me, and for once the smile on my face seemed as genuine as Harry's. Grinning madly to myself, I picked the book back up, turned it back upside-down, and began to read again.

            I've always had trouble reading. I hated it when I was younger because I was so horrible at it and the other kids in my classes always laughed at me. I didn't find out till I was older that I had dyslexia. When you're younger and all kids do is mock you, it's hard. It's really, really hard. I began to pull inside myself, losing contact with all my friends. My reading didn't improve as I got older, and one day in geography class in junior high, I had to read a long paragraph about European countries. I stumbled through it, the class laughing loudly at every mistake I happened upon. When I got to reading this portion about Minsk, which is the capital of the country Belarus, the letters jumbled in my mind and I said that it was Kims, the capital of Bumlets. That was about the end of it. The kids nearly had hysterical laughing fits, and even my geography teacher, Mr. Kaller, gave a chortle before telling me I didn't have to read anymore. I stared at my desk, not speaking, for the rest of the year. And that went over so well, I just stopped talking in other classes, too, the next year. But none of the kids in my class forgot that last fateful word I "read", 'Bumlets'. They began tormenting me with it, and it became a stupid nickname. Now I doubt anyone even knows my name is Peter. But really, I suppose it's okay. It could be worse. They could've decided to call me Kim. At least Bumlets isn't female-gender-specific. And I could've said something horrifying like that the country was called Walrus. At least Bumlets isn't exactly derogatory…

            Aunt Belinda told me my sophomore year that she'd had the same problems reading, and that what helped her was to read upside down. And I tried it, and for some reason it worked. My mom told me a few weeks ago that Aunt Belinda lied, she'd always read just fine and she only enjoyed reading upside down. But I think having someone in your family agreeing gives you confidence. And it helped, it really did. Now I sometimes even enjoy reading. _Harry Potter_ is a good show of that. In fact, those books probably changed my life.

            Not that I'd ever tell anyone that, of course.

            Goodness, I'm a loser.

**]*[**

            I finished _Azkaban for the probably thirtieth time and put it back on my bookshelf, then looked at my clock. It was about 4. I suddenly realized I hadn't asked Mom if I could borrow her car. I hadn't had enough money to buy a new one after I totaled my old one, thus I'm car-less and have to borrow Mom's station wagon if I want to drive anywhere—which I also have to share with three newly-licensed triplets and an older sister. So I ran down my attic stairs, knocking on the closet door to my sisters' room, as they make me do "in case they're changing", then barged through when I didn't hear any scandalized-sounding shrieks. The room was empty. So I charged downstairs _

            "Oh, look. The Mutant lives," Marlene said dryly as I walked into the kitchen. She was gnawing on a carrot stick while chatting with her female co-triplet, Michelle. Mom was preparing dinner, and I could hear the shouts of my brothers playing flag football in the backyard (probably in hopes of catching our female neighbors' eyes). Dad was undoubtedly at work. Alice was coloring in her Powerpuff Girls coloring book while sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Alexis, Trudy, and Darlene were doing the dishes, though none looked quite so happy to be up to their elbows in suds.

            "Mom? Can I borrow the car tonight?" I asked, walking over and kissing her cheek. She stared at me for a minute in shock, then smiled at me shakily. Honestly, that woman needs to stop being so surprised. She makes it seem like I never kiss her hello.

            Well, okay, so maybe I haven't since I was eight.

            But that doesn't matter.

            "Why do you need the car?" she asked offhandedly, though I could tell the question had been burning in her mind about exactly why someone had called me ever since the phone actually rang.

            "Some of the guys are having a party," I said as casually as I could.

            She grinned and hugged me, acting awfully Italian. I rolled my eyes but hugged her back. A moment later, though, her disposition changed. "Oh, honey!" she said, sounding dismayed. "I already told Darlene she could use the car. I'm sure that she'd be more than happy to drop you off somewhere, though…"

            "Terrific," I said, dipping my finger into the spaghetti sauce and licking it off. "More oregano, I think."

            "I was thinking the same thing," she said, thrilled.

            I spun away from her… literally. I began to do plies in the middle of the kitchen floor. Alice giggled and watched me, enthralled.

            "Fairy," scoffed Alexis.

            I used to take ballet when I was younger. It didn't really help with the whole "outcast from male society" aspect of my life, so I dropped it. I was pretty good, though, when I was in it. Actually, that's where I first met Racetrack, because he used to take tapdancing lessons at the same place I took ballet. I doubt he remembers, though.

            That was back when his hair was black.

            And that was a long time ago. Like, a few years.

            "First position," I chanted. "Second position." Alice's eyes were wide as she watched me. She's only two, and has a fascination with me. I think it's 'cause I'm always doing weird things. Like ballet.

            I began tour jeteing around, much to my sisters' dismay. "Stop it!" Alexis screamed as I accidentally knocked into her, plunging her arms up to her armpits into the dirty water in the sink.

            "Peter, honestly," my mom said, but she had to try very hard to conceal her smile. "Apologize to your sister."

            "Sorry, Alex!" I obliged, grabbing her beneath her skinny little arms and swinging her into the air. She doesn't have the grace of the girls I used to lift in ballet, though, and flopped downward, screaming that I was going to drown her in the sink.

            Little sisters. Goodness.

            I set Alex down, but grabbed hold of Darlene. Darlene's a year older than me and very cool for a sister. She laughed and we waltzed around the kitchen, though our hands kept slipping because of the slippery dish soap decorating her hands. Alice squealed so I traded off Darlene and picked her up, and she waved her arms around as I lifted her high up in the air.

            "What are you going to do at this party?" Alexis sniffed, turning around and looking huffily at me as I set Alice back down with her crayons. "Have a gay man sex-for-all orgy?"

            "Alexis May Swanson!" Mom said, looking shocked. "Watch your mouth! Apologize to Peter right now."

            Alex ignored her. "My friend Stacy has a brother who goes to your school. She said that he said that you're in this group with all these gay boys who are trying to get rights at the school. She says that he says that that makes you gay, too."

            "Alexis!" Mom shouted, turning red in the face.

            "And you dance and you're a fairy faggot!" Alexis shouted gleefully. "So yes, nancy-boy, dance around! It just proves how gay you really are." She crossed her arms across her chest. "Stacy's brother says you hang around with a guy who wears a Rainbow Brite shirt. And another one who wears _makeup_."

            "I'm not gay," I said slowly.

            "Of course you're not," Mom said hastily, moving forward. "Alexis May!"

            Alexis still paid her no mind. "Would you like to borrow my mascara for the party tonight?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet. "And maybe my go-go boots?"

            Mom stepped forward and slapped her across the face, hard. Alexis stared at her, and so did the rest of us in the kitchen. I stopped stretching my leg on the island.

            Mom was shaking. "You're grounded, Alexis. Go to your room."

            "Good!" Alexis yelled. "I didn't want to do the dishes anyway!" She began to storm out of the room.

            Mom yelled after her, "You're not going to that sleepover tonight, and you're not going to the movies tomorrow afternoon."

            Alexis stopped in her tracks and flipped around, her face contorted into vile anger. "So, what? Because he likes to bang boys, I get this uber-retarded punishment?"

            "I don't like to bang boys!" I said heatedly. "…I just have friends who do."

            Alexis snickered and Mom waved an impatient hand at me as if to tell me to stay out of this. "Alexis, you've crossed the line. Your brother's… sexual preference… is no concern of yours."

            "I'm not gay!" I protested.

            "You can go upstairs and think about what you've done. Go!"

            Alexis glared at her, and Mom turned her back and went back to the spaghetti sauce. When she was sure Mom wasn't looking, Alexis flipped me off, then practically ran to her room.

            Michelle took Alexis's place at the sink, and they began doing the dishes so noisily that the sound filled the air. Marlene decided to clean out the refrigerator, just so she wouldn't have to look at me. I blew air upwards in frustration, and my longish hair flew off my face then fell back into its place.

            I really do have nice hair.

            I walked to the stove and stood next to Mom. "Mom?" I said softly. "Do you really think I'm gay?"

            She wouldn't meet my eyes. "Well…" She exhaled slowly. "I didn't really know. I mean, you _do like to dance an awful lot…"_

            "Mom!" I said, incredulous. "Dancing has nothing to do with being gay!"

            "And you like Broadway…"

            I couldn't believe my ears. "So does Matthew Broderick! And he's married to Sarah Jessica Parker!" I said.

            She turned to me. "You know about celebrity marriages…"

            I shrugged. "Sometimes there's nothing on late at night but _Entertainment Tonight_." I shook my head. "Mom, I'm not gay. I swear on Grandpa's grave." I held up my hand solemnly in an oath-making gesture.

            She turned back to her sauce. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other," she said. "Do you think I couldn't handle knowing the truth?"

            "I _am telling the truth!" I exploded._

            "Mom? _I think he's telling the truth," Darlene said from the sink. I flashed her a grateful smile._

            "Well, if that's so, then why don't more girls call?" Mom asked. "He's such a handsome boy…"

            "Mom, I go to an all-boys school," I pointed out. "How many girls do you think I meet there?"

            "Are there going to be girls at this party?" she asked.

            I sighed. "No, we're doing this… listen, it's too complicated to explain, and you wouldn't understand anyway."

            Mom was staring so hard at the spaghetti sauce, I wondered if she wasn't trying to see if she had super powers to bore holes into things. She swallowed loudly before finally saying, "Well, make sure you wear a condom."

            "Mom!" I shouted, seriously and completely shocked. My mouth was probably hanging off the ground, and Michelle and Marlene broke into frenzied giggles. It's pointless to try and make sense to that woman! I stalked out of the kitchen, Darlene on my heels.

            "Listen, she means well," Darlene told me sympathetically as I sat down on the porch swing in front of our house. "At least she's trying to be supportive. If you really _were gay, wouldn't you want that? I bet some of your friends aren't so lucky."_

            "Yeah, I guess you're right," I agreed. "Still! Why does everyone think I'm gay?"

            "Do kids at school think you're gay?" she asked.

            I shrugged. "I didn't think so, but Stacy's brother—whoever the hell he is—apparently does. And I'm sure he's not alone. I mean, I do hang out with some guys who are gay, but there _are guys in their group who __aren't gay. And at least they accept me, and invite me places—"_

            "Whoa, whoa, I'm on your side, remember?" she said, smiling at me. "I don't think you're gay."

            "Good. Because I'm not."

            "I know!" She laughed a little, and I found myself laughing too. She looked over at me thoughtfully. "You should laugh more. You never laugh."

            I nodded. "This is the first time in a long time I've felt happy enough to laugh. I've never been invited to a party, not since Carl Riger's in the second grade, but his mom got mad because I pushed her over into the presents and I was never invited to another party."

            Darlene burst into giggles. "I remember you telling us about that!" She ruffled my hair, and though I squirmed away from her, I didn't mind it nearly as much as I do when Mom does it. "You were such a cute second-grader, ya know that?"

            "Yeah, I know," I agreed modestly.

            "You still are cute," she said, looking almost teary-eyed, which was almost funny because Darlene doesn't cry, ever. "Mom's right, you've grown so handsome…" She leaned over and squeezed my bicep. "When did you get all these muscles?"

            I shrugged for what seemed like the thirtieth time since coming downstairs. "It gets kinda boring up there in my attic all alone."

            "So you should visit with your family more, you crazy!" Darlene laughed.

            "Hey! Who's on the porch? Hey, Pete! C'mon! We need another person playing," Michael shouted. It seemed the football game had moved to the sideyard, and he was peering up at the porch. "Will royally sucks at football."

            "I do not!" Will squeaked. He's in first grade, and to see him trying to block sophomore Michael was, I'm sure, a hilarious thing.

            "And Miss Molly Mature-before-her-time Clark is out sunbathing next door," Michael added to me. "She's lying on her stomach, and she's _topless_. We want to get her to sit up. And since you're the buffest person in the family besides Charlie, who's unavailable due to his being at college, we decided you're our best bet to getting her to look up."

            Darlene stood up. "You're cracked, little brother," she told Michael. "But it'll be good for you," she added to me. Darlene's cool, but whenever we get in fights, it's usually because she's trying to convince me to do stuff with my brothers. She seems to think I don't have a strong enough bond with them or something. "Like Mom said, I'll give you a lift to that party tonight. Just tell me when."

            "Thanks, Dar," I said, then got off the porch swing. I jumped off the side of the porch into the grass.

            "C'mon," Michael told me. "We're using our shirts as flags." He jogged over to the corner of our yard closest to the Clarks' and pointed wildly at where Molly was lying, trying to get the last rays of summer onto her already-bronze body. I think Molly's a junior now, but I'm not sure. And Michael's right, she _is_ quite busty.

            "Will, go help Mom," Michael said, his eyes glued on Molly's bare back.

            "But I don't wanna—"

            "I said, go!"

            Will grumbled but obeyed, running to the back door.

            "What about Dallas and Larry?" I asked, looking with disdain at my other younger brothers.

            "We wanna see!" Larry piped up.

            Michael shrugged at me. "I figure it's about time they were inducted into the Man's Club."

            "You really think they can appreciate it?" I said skeptically.

            "We can appreciate!" Dallas insisted. "Oh, please, I can't wait to tell the guys at school!"

            I shrugged. "Well, okay." Dallas and Larry cheered, and I couldn't help but laugh at them. I pulled my shirt over my head and tucked it into the right side of my jeans, to match the location of my brothers' flags.

            "Wow, you really _are buff," Michael told me, sounding impressed. "I was almost lying before, but Jesus!" He raised his voice so he was nearly shouting. "_DO THE GIRLS YOU HANG OUT WITH KNOW YOU'VE GOT ALL THOSE MUSCLES?_"_

            Molly looked over, vaguely suspicious, and smiled at me. "Hi, Peter," she called.

            I smiled and waved. "Evening, Molly."

            Was this me? Was I talking to a girl? And actually not floundering?

            Good moods can have great consequences, I think.

            She beckoned me over. Michael hissed, "Go! Go!" and shoved me into her yard. Funny, but the thought that crossed my mind as I crossed the grass was 'At least Mom will know I'm not gay now.'

            Lordy, I need a new brain.

            Molly raised her eyebrows at me. "Your brothers aren't exactly as quiet as they'd like to think."

            I flushed, then nodded. "They just don't know how to treat angels."

            I wanted to slap myself in the forehead. 'They don't know how to treat angels'? What was I _thinking? Girls hate lines like that!_

            But Molly was smiling. "Think your mother's looking? I'd hate to get her angry at me. She's quite evil with a shovel, I hear."

            I smirked, remembering the time Molly was referring to, when Mom had chased Dad around our yard with a shovel when he came home drunk one night.

            "She's in the kitchen, she couldn't see you from here if she wanted to," I answered, and my heart sped up. Was Molly actually going to sit up and give my brothers a free show? Wow! We should've tried this years ago.

            She sat up, covering her chest with her arms, tactfully ignoring the wails of woe coming from my brothers. I could see what she meant about not being as quiet as they thought. Then, with a bit of a devious grin, she dropped her arms.

            Michael just stared at her, his mouth open so wide I could've counted all his teeth. Dallas looked vaguely interested, while Larry slapped at a bug that landed on his arm and didn't seem quite as enthralled—more like, not enthralled at all.

            Me? I couldn't take my eyes off them, if I had tried.

            And they were _real._

            She smiled, playfully flirty. "Come sit down with me, Peter."

            I sat.

            She put her arms around my neck and began kissing me.

            _Girls aren't supposed to be like this, are they?_

            I clumsily put my arms around her back and kissed her, too. She giggled a little too loudly and moved so that she was sitting on my lap. My mind was going a thousand miles per hour. Did she know she was kissing me? Was a topless girl really sitting on my lap? And, oh, did she know how good her fingers in my hair felt?

            "Molly Anne Clark!"

            Simultaneously, "Peter Joseph Swanson!"

            We broke apart and looked at each other, our eyes mirroring expansive wideness. "Shit," we said in unison. Molly scrambled off me and began searching for her bathing suit top, while I jumped up off the lounge chair and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to look as though this happened every day. I looked downward. "Shit!" I said again, moving my t-shirt from where I'd tucked it into the side of my jeans as a potential football flag so that it was guarding a certain spot in front instead.

            Both of our mothers had appeared, and in seconds my brothers had vanished. I knew which company I'd prefer.

            "See you later," Molly whispered, flashing me a guilty grin.

            "Bye," I said, edging back toward my house. I was scared to death of my mother.

            She glared at me. "Collect your brothers. I think they're behind the trees," she said coldly. "And dinner's ready."

            "Yes, ma'am," I said, hurrying over to the trees, where the three boys were, sure enough, sitting. "C'mon, dinner."

            "Did you really just … do that?" Michael asked. He scratched his head as he attempted to catch up with my stride back to the house. "Dude… are you really my brother?"

            I knew I should feel ashamed, but it was hard to keep the smile off my face.

**]*[**

            "Did you know that Molly Clark next door was caught having sex with her boyfriend by her mother?" Mom sniffed at dinner, throwing glances at me.

            "No, I didn't hear that," Michael said interestedly.

            "Her mother, of course, forbid her to see him again," Mom said, now openly glaring at me.

            "So she's available?" Michael hopefully asked.

            "Michael!" Michelle hissed, smacking him upside the head.

            Mom continued to stare at me. "You're sure there won't be girls at this party?"

            "No, Mom," I sighed, twirling my spaghetti around. "No girls."

            "Good," she said huffily. "I wouldn't let you go if there _were_ girls."

            First she worries about me being gay; now I get with girls too quickly.

            Is there no pleasing my mother?

**]*[**

            Darlene honked the horn twice as she pulled away. My breathing caught in my throat as I stood on the doorstep. It was only 7:15, and two cars stood alone in the driveway. I came too early, I shouldn't have even come, these boys don't want me here…

            Another car pulled up just as I was debating whether I could walk home or not.

            "Hey, Bumlets! You made it! All right!" The owner of the voice was Mush, and he strode up the driveway after parking his beautiful little car in the street. He clapped me on the shoulder. "These bums not coming to the door? Aw, screw 'em. C'mon, I always just walk in anyway." He opened the door and pushed me inside in front of him.

            Cowboy was there already, and Boots was with him, and was wearing pool floaties. I stared at them until Boots shook his head at me and said, "Don't even ask, man. I've given up." Sitting beside them on the floor was Snipeshooter, who was glaring at his stepbrother, sitting about ten feet away next to Pinhead. Mush squealed and shoved himself in between Pinhead and Blink. Not knowing where to sit, I chose the safe half-way point between the two groups, who looked like they were facing off, and leaned back on the loveseat which sat behind me.

            "So," Cowboy said, trying to get everyone talking. "What has everyone been up to today?"

            "I went shopping!" Mush called. "Like my shoes?" He pointed to his feet. I personally couldn't tell the difference between his shoes and any other shoes I'd ever seen him wear, but I smiled politely and joined in when everyone complimented them.

            "I spent the day with Tricia," Blink said. "She acted all weird. It was strange."

            "My fucking dog, no shit, spewed on the rug," Pinhead offered. "My mom went ballistic and damn well nearly told me I wasn't coming, but I told her that I was, and so that was fucking that." He nodded, content with his story.

            "I went fishing," Boots said. Everyone stared at him. "What?!" he asked. "It's fun!"

            "Sure it is," Snipeshooter answered, rolling his eyes.

            I was just glad I knew now why Boots was wearing pool floaties. Though he probably looked pretty foolish fishing with pool floaties on his arms…

            "I met this hot girl at the mall," Cowboy said. "She was there with two of her friends. Beautiful blonde bombshells. Marcy and Claudia latched onto my arms, and Lori walked behind me, massaging my shoulders, the entire time we shopped. It was heavenly."

            I'm pretty sure that none of us believed his bogus story, but we all grunted manly and nodded our approval.

            "I slept," Snipeshooter said dully when Cowboy looked at him for his story next.

            "Fascinating," Kid Blink said.

            "Hey, shut up, faggot!" Snipeshooter answered, glaring at his step.

            Mush threw a pillow at him. "He's not a faggot yet, Snipesy," he cooed.

            Snipeshooter rolled his eyes but fell silent.

            "And you, Bumlets?"

            I stared at Cowboy. "Uh… I had one of my sisters call me gay, then my mom told me she thought I was gay, then I went outside and made out with the topless girl next door, and then my mother told me I'm basically never allowed to see girls again."

            Everyone was staring at me. I felt a blush creep over my face. What? Was my story really that unbelievable after Cowboy's?

            "Man…" Blink said. "Do you know I've like, never heard you talk before?"

            "Does that mean that he's silent when you fuck him?" Snipeshooter asked sweetly. I had a strong, strong flash of a male Alexis.

            Blink lunged across the room at him. "C'mere, you little spoiled brat—"

            "Boys! Boys!" A distinctly female voice cut through the room, and Blink looked up and immediately loosed his strangling hold on Snipeshooter. "Let's get along, Treeflower, Ross, eh?"

            "Yes, Mom," Blink said.

            "Yes, Sally," Snipeshooter grumbled.

            "Good. Tree, I've got about a hundred of your favorite kind of soda in the fridge, and Morningsun has promised not to bother you boys tonight. Eric and I are going out for dinner and the theatre, so have a good night. We might be late. Don't bother waiting up."

            "Sure thing. Bye, Mom. Bye, Eric," Kid Blink said, yelling the last farewell out into the hallway, where his stepdad could be heard puttering about.

            "Bye," his stepdad called, then he and Mrs. Brooks disappeared out the front door.

            "Treeflower? Morningsun?" Boots asked.

            Kid Blink flushed. "My parents were on a hippie craze when I was born, and they decided to name my little sister Morningsun when she was born seven years later. Why do you think I never object to a nickname that generally degrades me by calling me a kid?"

            "So your name is Treeflower?" Cowboy barked in laughter. "Oh, that's too rich! Snipes, you never told me that."

            "Yeah? Why should I?" Snipeshooter growled. "I don't even care to know that that jerk-off fag-sucker is alive."

            "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Kid Blink shot back. "Since you're kinda in the strike to save my _friends."_

            "Yeah, well maybe I'd rather have Sally and Dad pay the money than be labeled a queer-lover, like you," Snipeshooter shouted. Just then, his best friend Jake entered the room, smiling genially. "C'mon, Jake," Snipeshooter growled. "We're outta here."

            Specs was entering the room as Snipeshooter and Jake left, and his eyebrows shot up. He gracefully crossed the room, sitting down next to Kid Blink. "Your friends aren't doing so well at this, Kelly," he told Jack. "First Spot, now Snipeshooter and Jake. Not that I particularly care for any of them…" He sniffed royally. "Where _is Spot, by the way? I thought you were getting a little search party together to go collect him from Brooklyn."_

            He looked awfully interested for someone who didn't "particularly care for any of them." Nobody else seemed to notice, though, so I kept my mouth shut.

            "Yeah, well, Conlon's being an ass like usual," Cowboy scowled. Walkin' Mouth was just coming into the room as he said this, and a wide smile decorated his face. I sensed that he didn't miss Spot's absence one iota.

            The place began to fill up, until everyone was there. I ended up scrunched in between Snoddy and Itey, two of my fellow loners who got roped into this. Sitting behind us on the loveseat were now Skittery and Snitch, who banged my head with their knees every time they shifted into a more comfortable embrace. I only wished Alexis could see this party, where Mush was trying to grope Pinhead and Blink while they both swatted at his hands, and Specs and Dutchy kept shooting each other I-still-love-you-but-I-can't-have-you looks over Racetrack's head, who sat between them on the couch with his girlfriend, Denise, on his lap. Crutchy, who is the last person on Earth I'd expect to have a girlfriend, also brought in a girl. Granted she wasn't as pretty, witty, or intelligent as Denise (or even Molly from next door) was, but at least Mandy seemed… devoted? …to Crutchy. She kept twisting his hair and trying to kiss his neck. He didn't seem to mind all that much. Itey told me he was sorry now that he'd canceled his date with his girlfriend, Irene, but that he didn't know that others would be bringing their girlfriends too. I imagined everyone's looks if I had brought Molly along. Particularly if Molly was still topless.

            The thought nearly got me laughing, and I have this really loud laugh, so it's a good thing Cowboy distracted me by calling everyone's attention before I got started.

            "As Specs has already pointed out," he said gruffly, "we're having a little trouble convincing people. I know we've been able to recruit some guys—Mush was incredibly effective in choir when he told everyone that unless they joined he wouldn't sing his solo in 'There's No Business Like Show Business', and Pie Eater was equally impressive when he threatened to beat up everyone in his gym class and take pictures of them naked for the school website if they didn't join. But Pinhead's plea to the druggies didn't work so well, and neither did Snoddy's appeal to the preps. Davey's discussion with the band kids, with the aid of Snitch, seemed to go over well on Thursday, but it seems we lost a few of them when Davey didn't show up on Friday. Swifty tells me, however, that the drama club is all for it, and Mush reinforced that same idea to me. But that still leaves a lot of guys at our school who either haven't heard about it or don't care. So how are we gonna convince them to join us?"

            "How about we fuckin' beat the shit out of them?" Pinhead suggested merrily.

            "Okay, there's one suggestion…" Cowboy said, though it was obviously not the one he was waiting for.

            "Are you mental?" Crutchy shouted at Pinhead. Mandy kissed his cheek supportively, running her hands across his shoulders. It was almost disconcerting. "Pulitzer will crack our skulls if we beat up all the kids at the school!"

            "Not to mention my mother would _kill me," Walkin' Mouth moaned._

            He got three pillows and a couch cushion thrown at him for that comment.

            "Why don't we just, like, sit across the school steps and refuse to let anyone in the building?" I suggested.

            Again, everyone stared at me, shocked that I had spoken. It would almost have been amusing, if it wasn't so upsetting.

            "Ya know, that's not such a bad idea…" Kid Blink said slowly.

            "Can we punch a few boneheads if they half-ass it and get in the school anyway?" Pinhead asked hopefully. Now everyone stared at him. He shrugged. "I got a fuckin' lot of built-up pressure."

            "Well, I can't see any harm in beating up a _few_ kids…" Cowboy said, grinning.

            "That's the fuck bomb SHIT!" Pinhead cheered. That kid is really, really strange.

            Says the boy who reads Harry Potter books upside-down.

            Aye-yi-yi.

            In the doorway appeared two very bright, large blue eyes, and a head of hair the exact same color as Kid Blink's. She looked around at all of us, biting her lip. I guessed she was about 10, around Dallas's age. "Treeflower?" she asked timidly, but over the tumult of boys cheering and congratulating themselves, no one heard her. I could only see her lips move. She slid into the room, and she was already dressed in her nightgown. Her hair glistened as though it had just been brushed, and she crept across the carpeted floor to where her brother sat. I think she was attempting to be invisible.

            "Hey, Sunny," he said, looking up at her. "What's the matter?"

            Obviously the wide-eyed, scared look wasn't commonplace for her. Kid Blink's voice had a note of concern in it.

            She bit her lip and shook her head, since we were all quieting to see what was up. Blink got to his feet, and Mush stood up with him. They walked over to a corner of the room with her, and knelt down to her level.

            Wow, has Blink got a lot of patience with her.

            And Mush, too. I mean, I know he's best friends with Blink and all, but whoever heard of an older brother's best friend being just as protective as the older brother?

            I was reminded of how rotten I'd treated Alexis just that afternoon (kicking her out of her room, shoving her into the dishwater—even if it was accidental—dancing with her when she didn't want me to…) and felt horrible. I decided to take it upon myself to do something nice for her when I got home. Maybe get her out of her grounding or something.

            Kid Blink and Mush left with Morningsun and I watched through the doorway as they headed upstairs. A moment later, a high-pitched shriek which could only have come from Mush sounded, then he ran gleefully down the stairs.

            "You will _never guess what Snipes and Jakey were doing," he said, his grin exceptionally wide, even for him. He was dancing in place, he was so happy._

            Kid Blink came running down the stairs next, but he looked horrified. "Mush, don't you dare tell them—"

            "What were Snipes and Jake doing?" Cowboy asked interestedly.

            Kid Blink sighed and finished, "—they don't want anyone to know anything's up until they're ready…"

            Mush rolled his eyes. "When have we ever cared what they want us to do?" He shoved Blink aside. "Sunny told us that she heard weird noises coming from Ross's—that's Snipeshooter, sorry—coming from his room and when she knocked on the door no one answered, so she got uneasy and came to get Blink. She thought there was a robber." He grinned. "So Blink and I went investigating, and—"

            "Shut up, you faggot!" Snipeshooter yelled, coming running down the stairs.

            Mush just smiled smugly at him. "Seems rather stupid of you to use _that_ insult now, doesn't it?"

            Snipeshooter's face was beet red. "Listen," he said to all of us. "I don't know what Butt-Fucker here's been telling you, but it's not true! It wasn't what it looked like! I mean, we might've been in my bed, yeah, but we weren't _doing anything, we were looking for … my flashlight, yeah, and it was all the way at the foot of my bed and under the covers and…"_

            "Your flashlight?" Mush asked, trying to keep a straight face. "Is that what you call it? Is that your and Jake's little game… Find Snipeshooter's Flashlight?" He looked about to burst with inner glee.

            Obviously, we'd all figured out by now what had happened, but it didn't mean that we were going to stop this bickering between Snipeshooter and Mush. Actually, it was quite entertaining.

            "We weren't… we aren't…" Snipeshooter seemed about to cry.

            When Snitch spoke from behind me, it was almost lazily. "Didn't you ever stop to think that the group you're standing in front of is probably the best one _to come out to? For Christ's sake, I'm laying on my boyfriend over here."_

            Snipeshooter really looked sorry for himself now, and I felt a stab of sympathy toward him. He's only a sophomore, and most of us are seniors. And after he's spent so long making fun of the gay kids, it would be hard to come out himself.

            He sniffled. "Okay, okay, so maybe…" he exhaled, and then shot daggers at Mush. "Maybe we are gay. Or something."

            "There. Was that so hard?" Specs asked.

            Snipeshooter glared at him, obviously defiant. "Yes."

            Specs sniffed, looking at Dutchy over Racetrack's head again. "Don't worry, Snipeshooter, you're not the only person in this room who doesn't know his sexual preference correctly." Dutchy ignored him, though his face burned angrily.

            The bickering between Specs and Dutchy pretty much accented most of the rest of the night, and I was glad that my back was to Snitch and Skittery, though the moaning noises so close to my ear gave me a good idea of what they were doing, anyhow. We ate some pizza and listened to music and the couples made out and it was everything a party from the teen movies portrayed, minus the beer and the drugs and kids swimming fully-clothed in an outdoor swimming pool.

            Mush said he'd give me a ride home, and he even swung by the Dairy Queen so I could pick up a chocolate chip cookie dough Blizzard for Alexis. Her favorite. I thanked Mush for the ride, though he looked disappointed when he puckered up for a kiss and I turned him down. I went inside my house and sat down with Mom. I talked to her about how it must have been hard for Alex to hear her friend's brother talking about me like that, and how Alex really hadn't been saying those things about me, she just needed to get it out to feel better. I convinced her to let Alex go to the movies the next day. Feeling the part of a great older brother (though not as fantastic as Kid Blink, I must say), I headed upstairs to the girls' room. Alexis wasn't there, but the door to the girls' bathroom was closed, so I figured I'd come back down when I heard it open. I climbed up to my room, which for some reason seemed to smell like paint – I hoped Michael hadn't decided to come sniff fumes up here again – and placed Alex's Blizzard on my night table, then switched on my lamp.

            "What the fuck?" I whispered. My walls were bright pink, with feathers and beads glued here and there. Across my mirror, in paint that had dripped downward before drying crookedly, spelled "Faggot". And above my bed, scrawled with the spray paint can, it said "From one girl to another. Alexis."

            My heart broke. I heard the door open and figured Alexis would be out now. I clambered down the stairs. She stood in the middle of her floor, toweling her hair and smiling smugly at me.

            "You like the new decorations?" she asked sweetly.

            I threw her Blizzard at her. "I got Mom to unground you for tomorrow," I spat. She stared at me, then looked down at her ice cream. I shook my head. "Thanks for being such a _great sister." Fighting tears, I walked back to the ladder and climbed up to my room with as much dignity as I could manage._

            I didn't start crying until I was all the way up and had pulled up my stairs after me. That's another good thing about the attic. It's guaranteed privacy.

            So now my room's pink. I didn't even answer Darlene when she yelled at me from the closet. Even hearing Darlene scream at Alexis didn't give me much condolence.

            As I opened _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire upside-down, trying not to focus on the pink-ness of my room, I allowed myself to entertain the notion that at least I now had friends._

            Friends who invited me places.

            And there _was a topless girl next door who would probably get with me anytime, as she's on the rebound._

            So I decided there could be worse things in life.

            I just wish that my family would understand me.

**]*[**

**time now to spread your wings**

**to take to flight**

**the life endeavor**

**aim for the burning sun**

**you're trapped inside**

**but you can still be free**

**if time will set you free**

**but it's a long, long way to go  
**[savage garden's you can still be free]

**]*[**

**[shoutouts!**

**Frogger No Baka ][ You're my hero too, Froggieoggie! XD I heart you muchly-mushly. You're a very grand person. ^_^ Hey, shush up about Logan… he has a point. It's coming up. It's going to be greatly funny, too. *snickers in self-lovingness* LMAO! I heart you kiddo, thanks for the review!**

**geometrygal ][ Yes, Logan's my new love… strange character though he is. Oh goodness, his part coming up is going to be SO great… I can't wait. ^_^ XD You *might* seriously call me a bitch, I've been called it before. Ah well, I'm only a bitch to those I know well. Hahaha! Yay for graduation! But your senior year will go FAST. I don't even remember half of the last year passing, it went so quickly… ah! Do you know where you're going to college yet? Ahh! Ryan/Clay-ness. Ryan is such a fabulous dresser (even if it's stylists) that he just _has_ to be gay, no getting around it. And Clay… *shakes head* No words for him. Such a great singer too! I heart Clay. Did you know that it's a fact that the runner-up always sells more than the winner on the Idol shows, like the statistics are the same in Britain and everything? o.O Highly suspicious, I say… Yes, I'm not really sure what Boots' purpose in this story is yet, although I enjoy outfitting him in pool floaties. *Points to above chapter 6* LOL! There was a bit of Snitch/Skitts in this chapter, but more will be on the way. ACK this story has so many twists I could take it on! I luffle it dearly. Yay! I'm glad I got the longest review you've ever written! *feels proud* Misspelled words and random thoughts I take in stride, m'dear. Have you ever read Rumor's reviews? She rambles too, and rambling is ALWAYS encouraged in each and every review. ^_^ Thank you for your kind words and sweet thoughts! Mad love, Geom.**

**studentnumber24601 ][ *tries to imagine you both hugging Dutchy and kicking his ass* That would be a picture to see, darling. ^_^ Yes, I secretly like Jack too, though I tend to make him idiotic and self-loving in all my stories. Deep down (way deep down, next to my love for the Delancey brothers) in my heart is a little portion set aside for Jack Kelly fangirliness squealing. I tend to break into it every time I watch American Psycho. Yes, yes, you may surely borrow confused-about-his-sexuality!davey! He likes taking trips into other peoples' stories. I lurve Huck Finn too! I end up putting it in a lot of my stories, but as my teacher said when we were preparing for our AP test this year, there is no essay prompt they could come up with that you can't answer with Huck Finn. XD Very versatile book. After reading it last summer, I immediately checked out Tom Sawyer, but it's not nearly as good I think as Huck. Huck's just lovely and orphanized and splendid. Poor Boots is gonna have to stop taking rides with Jack unless he wants to wear pool floaties for the entire story. Which he very well might do… I can't wait to write about Boots' mother, she's going to be wonderful! Oh, Spotty darling, he's gonna have some tough times ahead in this book… if it was hard for Snipes and Jake, imagine poor Spot's "delicate" little ego. Aye-yi-yi. Thank you for the long review! Simply splendid. Have I missed any updations of HISMSV? If so, let me know because I absolutely ADORE that story. Mad love B-24!**

**Gothic Author ][ XD I love Logan too! Oh he's going to have SUCH a great part to come… your only hint is that Davey is going to be VERY paranoid. Haha yes, yes, Davey's conceit is QUITE lovely. He's such a funny little character… *pats him on the head* I like keeping him around, he livens things up with his strangeness. ^_^;; Thank you so much for the review GA! You're too kind. I always enjoy reading your reviews. :D**

**unnamed ][ Davey is very opinionated, and he enjoys sharing the fact that he's opinionated. LOL! Yes, poor Davey is scared to death of Logan… and lucky Logan's gonna have a grand time coming up. Davey's going to turn from opinionated and strange to a paranoid creeped-out weirdo. I can't wait!!! XD Hmm, I never noticed quite how many triangles I had going in this story until you named them all… weird. :D Yes, straight-A averages is ALWAYS good! Congrats darlink! :D Thanks for the review, it's so nice of you!!**

**Sita-Chan ][ Yes, yes, Davey really should learn not to kiss strange men in gas stations. *sigh* Silly boy. Thanks for the review dollface! I love the dock scene as well. I just love all of Spot's facial expressions, like he can't believe anything he's hearing… and then when Jack tells him that if he's got half a brain he'll listen to what Dave's gotta say, and then Spot just gives Dave that LOOK—so terrific. I die laughing every time. It's one of my favorite looks in the whole movie. XD *grins grins grins***

**FidgetConlon ][ Thanks! Yeah, poor Specs/Dutchy, I have no idea where they're going. Same with Mush… poor kid. I have no idea what I'm gonna have him do in this story other than flit about and cheer everyone up. XD Thanks for the review!**

**Seraph ][ Yeah, I know! You're telling me. I was annoyed with writing "In my opinion", but my abt!davey insisted upon it. He's very temperamental, that one. Boots' pool floaties are my new favey-davey part of the story, so they're sticking around for a while. I can't wait to introduce Boots' mom, she's gonna be awesome-Blossom. Thanks for the review hun!**

**GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ I think Spot was probably a really cute little kid… and very hyperactive. He undoubtedly drove his mother nuts. He seems like he'd be a handful. And can you imagine trying to raise teenage!spot?! Aye carumba! XD LMAO ya know how Jack had all those girls hanging off him at the mall in this chapter? I had one of them named Chelsea and then I was like, ACK! No! Glimm will think it's her and she won't be hanging off Spot but Jack! So I had to change the name. In case you wondered, Chelsea was the one who walked behind him massaging his shoulders. ^___^;; I believe that Davey is the ultimate dork, but don't tell abt!davey that, cuz I told him he wasn't. O_O LOL! Thanks for the review Glimm doll! And I'll get to Amazing Grace soon. XD XD XD I heart you!**

**Alexandra Paige ][ WHOO! Putting off Harry Potter for ME?! *feels special* I hope you're having a blast even though we all miss you tons and I can't wait till you come back Shorts m'dear! XD Mad love hun!**

**kellyanne ][ Awww! Thanks! ::dances:: You're so nice!!! I love writing this story, so I'm glad you like it. XD**

**Thumbsucker Snitch ][ Well, you might've reviewed the chapter—ffn still hasn't forgiven me for the last time I kicked it in its metaphorical face, and enjoys eating reviews to me. Like I'll beg people to review, being the review whore I am, and they'll be like, "But I _did_ review." It just didn't save because ffn despises me. :shrugs: Anyhow! Yes, I think authors truly are their worst critics. No doubt in my mind, actually. I'm so mad at JKR for making Percy evil! *cries* I've always adored Percy, he's been my love since book 1, and now she goes and makes him a stuck-up prick. I wonder what Penelope thinks about him now… I bet they broke up and THAT'S why he's so angry at the world and such. ACK! I lurve Boots too. It amuses me to no end when Arvie's that teacher on Lizzie McGuire even though it *is* a bit saddening to see him all grown up… I'll never forgive the boys who starred in Newsies for growing up. XD Except Aaron Lohr, as he's turned from hot-fifteen-year-old into STUDLYSEXYMANWHORE!AARON!!!! wOOt! Yeah? Well I'm *always* going "GAH, I LOVE LUTELLS AND HER COOLNESS"!!! Cuz you're just awesome, Cutells. ^_^ Mad love, doll!**

**Nerikla ][ Yes, pool floaties are a new obsession of mine. I never had them when I was younger, so now I'm in withdrawal. ^_^ Haha! FFN is *always* a bitch and it hates me so … there ya go, sorry your review didn't save. :( But ah well, c'est la vie. Thanks darling!!! Your reviews are always so nice. I appreciate them muchly-mushly!! :D**

**Mush's Skittles ][ First of all, thanks mucholy for the three reviews Itts darling! But I can't comment on the last two as they're not showing up on the comp right now *sigh* but I read them in my email and thank you so much! Yes, I'm glad Davey annoyed you. That was his entire purpose last chapter. XD !!! And YES, all newsies love crayons! *pouts* crayon!mush just loves them the most, but it's a fact that every single newsie adores crayons. Tis not MY fault! I LURVE YOU GREATLY ITTS! You're truly one of the greatest.**

**hilaRy-bilaRy ][ XD Just seeing that a review is from you is enough to send me into superfantasticalspastic!grinning. ^_^ I told Misi that we got married and she was like, 'Oh dear, the two most hyper reviewers getting married? Aie!' Twas funny. Hehehe! Haha isn't it fabulous how I can change your opinion of Davey in like two seconds? *beams proudly at herself* LOL! Yay for EasterBunnySuit!Davey! **watches him hop about** So funny! Somehow, it would not surprise me to come into my room and find Davey snogging his pool floaties… ::shakes head:: That's only if shirtless!swifty isn't around, of course. XD Awww, HarryPotter!Mush! But Mush isn't as angsty as Harry. Harry's all angry at the world. Mush is all love and flowers and butterflies and fuzzy pink picture frames. *nods wisely* LOL! Paranoid!Davey rocks, and he's gonna be showing up soon in the story. *can't wait* It's gonna be SO FUNNY! XD XD XD *hands hil-bil a jacknicknameforming!spot* You should've hugged your little brother. ^^ I heart my brother! But he's older than me and I never see him as he's staying at his frat house this summer. :( But ah well, c'est la vie. Sorry I haven't gotten to Vaudeville! yet, I swear I'm on my way. Shortly. Maybe later tonight though, as my dad's about to kick me off the comp. AIE!**

**Stage ][ Oh, who knows about Spot… strange kid. And Logan's coming back. Bwahahahaha. *is excited for Logan's return* It shall be luverly. *hops about excitedly* LOL! Thanks for the review!**

**Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ Wow, you painted a BEAUTIFUL picture in that review. I think I want to print that review off and put it up on my wall. *drools* LOL! Yay for real-life-flaming!specs!! *mad grin* He sounds lovely! Thanks for the review hun, we need to talk again soon! Now if only AIM didn't screw up my comp royally every time I try to use it… Gah.**

**The Omniscient Bookseller ][ wOOt! How did Opening Night go?! And thanks for the review even in your euphoric and wired state! I lurve you hun.**

**rumor ][ Davey's so strange. I think he's my favorite character to write about, besides Specsies. ^_^ Yay! LOL. You think Davey was paranoid last chapter… just you wait. Just. You. Wait. *hops about* I can't wait till Logan comes back… it's gonna be FUNNY. GAIGH! Ooh, that's a new word… pretty too. *pats new word* LOL I'm strange today… anyhow. Thanks for the review hun! Mad mad mad mad love!!!**

**Artemis-Chan ][ Really, I take no credit for Logan. I have no idea. *shrugs* Tis funny, all my other characters have full pages in my notebook with their profiles, and between Kid Blink and Mush is Logan's page, and it's blank except for his name at the top. Hahaha! abt!dutchy is your first newsiemusiecharacter? *looks shocked* WAHOO! I'm glad you now have one. I have quite a collection, including oiledupandinathong!aaronlohr, who I just received from Sparkle. He's my new favorite. and shirtless!swifty is quite fab, too. ^___^! Thanks for the review doll!**

**Emotions ][ Wow! Thanks! I'm glad you read it. 'Caught In The Rain' was a good story. *nods* LOL! THE NJL! WAHOO! It stands for Newsie Justice League, and it's 40 of us authors on ff.net and basically we're out to rid the world of Mary Sues and to complain about our lives with one another. We have too much fun there, really. The NJLers are some of my best best friends in the world now. We all have such a great time. You could visit our yahoo group, but you couldn't read anything but the front page since you're not a member, LOL, so it's not really worth it. But ah well! And that is the NJL. ^_^ Thanks for the review hun! I hope you keep reading.**

**Misprint who didn't review but I still love her madly anyway ][ I lurve you! XD**

…end shoutouts (finally! I didn't think I was gonna get done in time. That took like an hour. Sheesh.) MAD LOVE TO ALL REVIEWERS!!!!!!!!!]


	7. chapter seven: kid blink

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead, Logan and Enrique. Disney and respective families own the newsies. The charactersÕ portrayal is MondieÕs, and the dialogue and plot are MondieÕs with some vague helpings by Disney. But donÕt sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.

therapist!skittery: YouÕre getting good at that.

Mondie: I know.**]**

**[chapter seven: kid blink]**

[chapter written: july 11-12, 2003]

**]*[**

**Chapter disclaimer: **If you canÕt handle slash, donÕt read this chapter. There ya go.

**Chapter announcement: **Happy Blink Week! UhÉ only a few weeks late. Whoops. Happy birthday to B!!

**]*[**

It was well after 1 pm when I awoke. With a splitting headache. ÒShit,Ó I moaned.

It was hard, but I forced myself to get up. Dad would be here in half an hour to get Sunny and me. I _hate _being shared between my parents. But I donÕt get a choice in the matter. At least IÕm seventeen now-- almost out of their wraths. Maybe when IÕm eighteen IÕll move in at MushÕs house. SunnyÕs still got eight more years of being shunted from house to house. Lucky girl.

A good thing about alternating houses by week is that I only have to grab a few items every time. My rooms at both houses are strikingly parallel. I did have to grab some random things that my friends left behind last night, to give back at school tomorrow. It was a very strange collection of items: one of BootsÕ pool floaties; a leaflet for a science fair, which was most likely MouthÕs; and a pair of pants IÕm fairly certain belong to Snitch -- not that I have any idea how he managed to leave the party without anyone noticing his sans-pants nature.

Well, IÕm sure Skittery noticed.

There was a brief knock on my door, then Sunny opened it. ÒI was just making sure you were awake,Ó she said. Her hair was still rumpled from sleep, though I was certain sheÕd been up for hours. She already had flour smudged on her clothes, evidence of helping Mom cook.

ÒYou ready for DadÕs?Ó I asked, stuffing SnitchÕs pants in my duffel bag with the other things. I hoped to high heaven they were clean. At least Dutchy hadnÕt left his pants -- IÕd be worried for the cleanliness of my bag then. DutchyÕs not really one for washing his clothing.

Morningsun blinked up at me, then shrugged. ÒI hate it there,Ó she answered slowly.

I nodded, smiling grimly. ÒYou and me both, kid.Ó The only good thing about Dad's house is that Mush lives next door.

She sat on my bed and watched me packing my school books and a few CDs. ÒDo you remember Mom and Dad being happy together?Ó she asked.

I sighed to myself. Sunny gets in these moods every now and then, where she has to hear stories about Mom and Dad being together. Even though both are remarried, I think she still wishes she had a normal home like some of her friends.

But if thereÕs one thing _I_ have learned by being friends with the people I am, itÕs that being normal is highly overrated.

I pacified her by making up some story about our parents taking us out to dinner one day when she was three and I was ten. I told her how Dad laughed when she threw her spaghetti on the ground, and how Mom was so embarrassed she ordered three more complete dinners to make sure the restaurant staff didnÕt hate us. I donÕt know if Sunny believes the stories I make up for her, and while I have a sneaking suspicion that she knows IÕm just lying, I also think she blindly turns away because she wishes the stories were true.

In truth, I canÕt remember Mom and Dad being happy together. IsnÕt that sad? It was five years ago that they got their divorce. But I was twelve. The fact that they were married that long with such a vast hatred still shocks me when I think about it. God. Can you imagine how horrible that would be? I think they stayed together as long as they did for Sunny and me. But that all came crashing down when Dad came home with the news that he had proposed to his girlfriend, and he commanded Mom to give him a divorce. Turned out heÕd knocked up his on-the-side fling. I hadnÕt known that he was cheating on Mom. I donÕt think Mom knew, either. But Mom was so mad about it that she gladly signed the divorce papers.

They got joint custody, and we started out living at MomÕs until Dad got a new house. When he finally got one, it was a random white trash house in the middle of a neighborhood of other trash houses. Next door was a family with three kids: Nancy, Trey, and Micah. Micah was my age. And I immediately recognized him. He was a punk kid, mixed up with a jerk, Francis Sullivan, who had threatened me many years before and mugged me, and had from that time on beat me up everytime he saw me -- especially if he was with Francis.

But heÕd changed since the last time IÕd seen him, or at least somehow he was now endowed with the gigantic heart he still has to this day. The first night I was sitting on the roof outside my new room, trying to hide my tears and myself from my family simultaneously, when he stuck his head out of the window probably less than ten feet from my rooftop perch. The houses are nearly adjoined, theyÕre so close. But thatÕs what you get in these trash neighborhoods. I immediately recognized him and attempted to scramble away from him, but he climbed out of his window onto his roof, then took a running leap and caught onto the edge of my roof. He scrambled up after me and caught a hold on my ankle just before I got through the window.

IÕll never forget that. He cared enough about making things right and finding out what was wrong with me that he risked falling off the roof. And when youÕre twelve and feeling lonely and unloved, thatÕs something you just need.

He was still friends with Francis Sullivan, who he now called Cowboy, and Cowboy didnÕt want to hang with me. It put a minor wedge in between Cowboy and Mush, which I found out was his preferred nickname. But Mush didnÕt give up on being my friend. HeÕd jump over onto my roof at all hours of the day and night, whenever I needed him. And I never had to ask. He always somehow just knew.

I wouldnÕt have made it through that time without him.

When we got to high school, Mom decided to show up Dad by showing him just how much money she has, and so she sent me to Apollo. Mush, who's a year older than me, was already going there too, with money that his sister and brother were giving for that purpose exactly. And so was Francis Sullivan. He legally changed his name to Jack Kelly, though, shortly thereafter. Mush told me once that it was in honor of his deadbeat parents -- his mom was named Kelly, and his father, Jack.

Morningsun, who had been lost in daydreams of her own, and I both jumped when DadÕs car horn sounded outside. I grabbed my suitcase and Morningsun and, even though sheÕs too old for it, gave her a piggyback ride down the stairs. We kissed Mom goodbye and Sunny kissed Eric, my stepdad, goodbye too. I just waved halfheartedly at him. I donÕt think heÕs all that great as Mom and Sunny believe. He's better than Dad, I guess, but then it's hard _not_ to be better than Dad.

It doesn't kill me to be back in the neighborhood now. It's different, now that I'm friends with Mush. I now almost like being at Dad's. At least there's no Snipeshooter there. My stepbrother is the huge, huge thorn in my sid

Carly was nowhere in sight when we got to Dad's house, but that was no big surprise. She was probably out drinking and whoring her body. My stepmother isn't exactly the most conscientious person in the world. This is evidenced highly by the fact that she got pregnant by my father supposedly, but their daughter, five-year old Callie, has beautiful-colored skin as if someone smeared chocolate frosting inside her, just shining out from her beautiful face. And my father is just about the whitest white guy you've ever seen. And Carly is the same, but female. Her entire family is blonde-haired, pale-skinned. She can't even sit out in the sun for five minutes without a sunburn changing her complexion to strawberry-red.

But Carly and Dad like to pretend. And I guess they're good at it.

I dropped off my junk in my room, then climbed on my roof. "Mush?" I yelled. "You in your room?"

His grinning face appeared a minute later between the white curtains framing his window. "Hey, Blink!" His intense halo of curls were springing everywhere, giving him a somewhat comical look. Even more comical was the fact that his usually-honey-colored skin was, at the moment, green.

"What the hell is on your face?" I asked, laughing at him.

"Moisturizing face mask," he answered, shaking his head in disbelief that this wasn't obvious. "So how are things at the Dad's homefront?"

I shrugged. "I just got here, actually. Haven't seen the Wicked Witch. So it must be good."

He gave an appreciative laugh, then climbed out of his own window, sitting on his roof. "That was a great party last night, Kid." He was holding a washcloth, and he began wiping off his mask.

"Thanks. Not that I did anything," I laughed. "I provided the pad."

"Still, at least you have something to provide," he said seriously. "I would be much too ashamed to invite people to my house." He lowered his voice. "Ya know. It's not as nice as your mom's, no way."

I shook my head. "Stop being stupid," I told him. "Your house is great. Your mom's done a lot with the inside."

He nodded. "It's not anyone's fault, really. It's just the truth. I wasn't trying to put my mom down."

"I know you weren't."

I stared at the tree in Mush's front yard, if you could call it a yard. The poor tree wasn't having its best year. Its leaves had fallen off in mid-August, instead of waiting for autumn to arrive, and now it waved its naked branches around feebly in the light September breeze, as if gasping for breath or water or some other life-saving necessity.

"Hey. Wanna go for a walk or something? I think some kids are cleaning up the park at the end of the block. We could help out," Mush suggested.

I nodded, standing up and dusting off my butt. "Sure." He stood up on his roof, too, and we both shared the grin of knowing we were about to do something deliciously stupid. With loud yells of various prolonged vowels, we jumped off our roofs at the same time.

He crashed into me on the way down. When we finally hit the dying grass, most of his torso hit me instead of the ground. We were both laughing too hard to breathe, plus my lungs were kinda crushed by him, so it was relatively safe to presume I couldn't have breathed even in a more sober moment.

"Get off!" I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. He was now a hopeless bag of giggles, and even in my state it was easy to shove him to the side. He looked over at me, his eyes sparkling with laughter's tears.

"You do know that one of these days we're gonna kill ourselves doing that, right?" he grinned, hiccuping.

"Yeah, I know," I laughed back. We've only had a few close calls doing it over the years-- one of them being me fracturing my leg. Mush never even gets bruises, because he always ends up jumping too exuberantly and crashing into me instead, so I take most of the fall. "And yet, it never gets old."

Mush nodded gleefully, then turned onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow and staring down at me. His legs had still been laying on mine, and now he rubbed my leg with one of his feet. He had that look in his eye -- the one where he wants to do nothing more than kiss me. I hate when he looks at me like that -- it's so much harder to break the moment when he's serious. It's easy to tell him he's being stupid when he's just goofing around. But when he looks at me like that, and gets all quiet... I immediately sat up and pushed myself to my feet. I've learned to ward off his attacks before they start.

"So how long have they been cleaning up the park? It's a big mess, from what I remember," I said as we started walking toward the kids' playground at the end of the street.

"A few days," Mush answered, cheerfully dancing about. He's the only one I know who dances when he walks. He wiggles his butt and kind of flails his arms around. It's quite amusing and also very endearing. How could anyone hate someone who looks like that when he walks?

We helped the volunteering group at the park for a little while, ending up painting each other and the other kids more than the equipment. I'll bet to say it's safe they were more than a little relieved to see us leave. We weren't exactly helpful -- more of a hindrance.

Mush suggested we just walk some more, since neither of us particularly wanted to go home. Looking over at his profile as he danced along beside me, I noticed that among the spots of red, yellow, and blue paint, he also had green face mask along his sideburns. "Hold still," I told him, and attempted to get it off. It was dried on now, so I had to pick at it with my stubby fingernails. "There," I said, when sure it was gone. "You still had face mask on."

"Thanks," he said, looking over at me and smiling slightly. He had that look in his eye again. I sighed in disbelief and a bit of aggravation, and he got the message. He turned away and began dancing again. We walked out of our neighborhood and down some side streets, until getting to Main Street. Mush pointed to a movie theatre that was showing a movie he wanted to see, but as both of us were broke, we decided to skip it. We ended up sitting on a park bench in a park, a park that was already nice and didn't have snobby kids who didn't want to share their paint. Mush was looking upwards at the clouds and trying to find shapes in them. I was watching some little kids across the park who were having a tea party with some stuffed animals while their mothers watched them, doing simultaneously the same thing without realizing it. Each of the mothers sipped her bottled water and gossiped with the same intensity as the little girls' playing. Suddenly, a loud crash quite close to my ear nearly scared me shitless.

"Hey, fags," a boy said. He went to our school, but I only knew him from sight. He didn't look like he could talk much, because from his impeccable clothes to his stylishly-messy hair, he looked a bit gay himself.

"Hi, Kyle," Mush answered slowly, and his voice was tremoring. I looked over at him quizzically, and saw shattered glass on the park bench next to him, some of it scattered on his lap from the force of the bottle breaking. The boy now renowned as Kyle was holding the neck of the bottle, its dark brown glass flashing like a rough diamond in his hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and I'm sure I sounded stupid. "Why did you--"

"Shut up, you fairy," he snarled. "Me and Taylor are gonna teach you a lesson." Taylor, a faceless jock at the football games, stepped up beside him. Taylor sits next to Dutchy in choir and gives him hell every day. I felt my fury growing. Where do these guys get off?

"Hey, Kyle, why don't you cut it out?" a high-pitched voice, shrill with worry, came from behind him. Craning my neck, I was just able to see a heavyset girl with red pigtails wringing her hands, anxious. Next to her stood a girl with shiny black hair pulled back in a headband, who was her opposite in weight and seemed liable to blow over with the next great gust of wind. It was this girl who intrigued me, though the other one was who had spoken. The black-haired girl had the exact same facial features as Bumlets. And she was grinning maniacally.

"Shut up, Stacy," Kyle said. "Go home to Mom."

"We're not going _anywhere_," the black-haired girl said excitedly. "No way are we missing this!"

Okay, so maybe she _wasn't_ related to Bumlets. She still looked an awful lot like a female version of him, though.

"Stacy, take Alexis home," Kyle said angrily.

"No!" Alexis shouted back. Kyle turned around, putting his hands on his hips, and beginning to shout. Taylor was watching, apparently amused by his friend's trials. Mush nudged me and I nodded, and we snuck away without them noticing. And luckily, the brutes were so large that they blocked Alexis' view and only Stacy saw us; and since she apparently was on our side, she didn't squeal on us. We managed to hide behind some bushes before Kyle and Taylor turned around, and the looks on their faces were priceless. They stalked out of the park, Kyle dropping the shattered pieces of bottle in anger and disappointment. Stacy looked smug, and Alexis was kicking the ground angrily.

She couldn't have been older than a freshman. And she already knew this intense hatred toward gay people? It sent a shudder down my spine. Why can't everyone just get along?

And lucky me, now I sound like a Mr. Roger's after-school special.

Mush and I walked out of the park from the other gate, and headed home. Neither of us talked on the way. There was no point. The mood had been dampened.

We'd been away for the entire afternoon, and yet because we left out the windows, no one had even noticed I'd left. I got back just in time for dinner, and then I headed upstairs to my room. I didn't turn on my light, because the dying sun was still casting enough rays to see by, and I like the dark in comparison to the light, anyhow. Mush's light was on, though. And he was sitting at his window-- or at least quite close to it. He looked so forlorn as he stared at my roof, and I knew he was distraught at the fact that another day had gone by and he still was no closer to receiving any love from me other than that of a brother. Suddenly he opened his mouth and began singing.

There's a reason why Mush's threatening not to sing a solo in choir would get people interested in joining the strike.

He has the single most beautiful voice I've ever heard. If he were to go on that show _American Idol_, he'd win hands-down, no questions asked.

His voice filled the air between the windows, tearing at my heart. "Never knew I could feel like this, like I've never seen the sky before. I want to vanish inside your kiss, every day I love you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing, telling me to give you everything? Seasons may change, winter to spring..." he paused, his voice growing huskier and more anxious with every word as he continued, "but I love you until the end of time. Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day."

He brushed away a few tears, and I felt myself do the same.

Doesn't he know I'd give anything to be the same? To be a true friend to him, to give him what he deserves? Doesn't he know how many times I've cursed God for giving me the best friend imaginable and not being able to fulfill his sole request?

Who was there for me in my suicidal phase, when I was so helplessly spiralling that drugs were my only escape, where I nearly flunked school? Who always did my social studies homework for me while simultaneously forcing me to become clean, to get off ecstasy and pot and everything I got my hands on? When I was so angry and ugly that I grabbed that kitchen knife and plunged it into my eye, who was the one who grabbed it out of my grasp before I could do the same to my other eye or my arm or my heart, and then who called 9-1-1 and then came up with a beautifully fabricated story so I wouldn't get in trouble with my parents? Who helped me my freshman year at school with fitting in while he was simultaneously trying to fit himself in, though no one understood him and his sexuality? Let me tell you, it most definately was not my father.

And all he wants is for me to love him back, like that, but I can't. And it breaks my heart over and over and over again. Because I'd do anything for him but lie. And a lie is the only thing he wants to hear.

I thought on the night when he came out to me, a night very much like this one. It was right after I'd started high school with him, two years ago. He had been sitting with his light on, while I was in the dark. He'd jumped onto my roof, knowing that I was in my room, then came in through the window while I was doing my English homework. He sat on my bed, watching me typing at my computer while sitting at my desk. He told me that he was gay, and he wouldn't meet my eyes, especially when he followed it up by telling me that he had a crush on me. And I had only stared at him, and I couldn't tell him anything, not even that I was sorry that I didn't feel the same. I was sorry. I still am. But it scared me. And it still does.

A loud thump on my roof told me that Mush had guessed my presence. I waited as he climbed through the window. "Goodness, Blink," he said laughingly. "Why do you always insist on the dark?" He crossed the room and flipped on my light switch, then flung himself across my bed. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Dad might get mad if I sneak out again."

"Oh, we can just stay here if you want," Mush answered. He grinned coyly. "If you catch my drift..."

"You're sick, Mush," I told him, shaking my head. He looked at me and licked his lips. We both burst into laughter though, because it was one of his joking moods.

I suddenly wondered if he knew how much he means to me.

And would it really be so bad to lie to him, if the lie was to make him happy?

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring up his hopes like that, just to dash them away when I freaked out about it later. And I knew I would. Not to mention my parents would flip. There's a reason why Snipeshooter would never tell my mom he's gay, even though he's just her stepson.

But... but what if I really am gay, and I just don't know it? I mean, looking at girls has a completely different accompanying feeling than looking at guys, but I've never been in love, and maybe what I think is desire is actually repulsion?

Why is it that I'm the only person in the world who's constantly confused and second-guessing myself? Everyone else is confused sometimes, but I'm constantly that way.

Constantly.

Mush knows better than to interrupt me when I get what he calls my "dreamy-eyed look", and he was waiting patiently when I finally made my thoughts shut up.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," I answered. I tried to smile and put my hands in my pockets casually.

"You're nervous. You never put your hands in your pockets. So what's up?"

Damn. Sometimes it's not so great to have your best friend know you so utterly and completely well.

"Nothing, just thinking." There. Truth. In some form, at least.

"Well, duh, you dork. You had your 'dreamy-eyed look'. Anyhow. What are you thinking about?" He kicked off his sandals, rolling over onto his back and sticking his feet up into the air, his legs at a right angle to his body. He appeared to be studying how the veins in his feet bulged when he flexed his foot. He's so wonderfully abnormal.

"Just... stuff. You know."

He rolled over again, now furrowing his brows as his big brown eyes examined me. "No, I don't know. C'mon, why are you being so secretive?" He was getting suspicious now. "Blink, we're best friends. You can tell me anything. _I_ tell _you_ everything.

"I know," I said, in desperation. "Move over, huh?" He shrugged and obliged, rolling onto his side so that half of my bed was now open. I sat on the edge, clasping and unclasping my hands in my lap. "Um... I don't know how to say this."

Mush sat up too, sitting next to me. He studied me harshly with his damning gaze, then grabbed my arm. "Blink, spit it out."

I looked over at him and winced. He was so close. Could I do it? Could I really just lean over and kiss him? No, I couldn't. He was my best friend. And if I did this, and it was wrong, then it would wreck _everything_ that we have for us right now. We could never go back to being best friends if this happened. He wouldn't trust me anymore, and I wouldn't be able to look him in the face.

And I didn't feel anything... _special_ ...when I thought about it. There was no potential excitement at the thought of kissing him. Nothing. Just... kinda disgust.

But Mush seemed to have other ideas. His face seemed to be coming closer, but I couldn't tell whether it really was or if it was just my overactive imagination. He closed his eyes, and I was now certain his face was definitely, albeit slowly, coming toward mine. An involuntary grimace covered my face, and I took in a deep intake of breath as I stared, unable to blink, at him. His hand let go of my arm but traced its way up to my neck, caressing the nape and twisting what hairs resided there. And then, as I continued to stare at him, his face was suddenly upon mine. His lips sucked at mine, playfully pulling and teasing. His tongue licked at my lips, and then was suddenly inside my mouth. He shifted his body, and while his one arm remained on the back of my head, the other traced across my chest, down my side. Shivers went through my body, and I moved slightly, tilting my head to better receive his kiss. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. His thumb traced around my chest muscles, and his tongue tangled with mine into a beautiful web of satisfaction. He stopped tracing and took my hand from where it dumbly sat beside my body, bringing it to his torso. I bit at his lip, gripping his rib cage with both hands, thick muscles rippling beautifully beneath my fingers. He sighed a little, grabbing my sides and gently pulling me down onto the bed with him. He pushed one of his legs in between mine, twisting it around my leg. Our bodies fit together perfectly. He pulled me as close as he could, embracing me tightly. His face was at the level of my chest, and he pulled insistently at my t-shirt. I helped him tug it off. He hugged me closely again, kissing my chest lightly. Then one of his hands traveled down to the waistband of my jeans.

"Wait," I said, and was immediately embarrassed by the huskiness of my voice. "No."

Mush broke away. He suddenly looked shocked, too. "Oh, God, Blink," he whispered. "Oh, God."

I sat up, completely breaking the bond between us. I felt dizzy and lightheaded and like I was about to throw up. I wondered if it would be too girly to burst into tears.

Girly.

Girl.

Oh, shit.

For the first time that night, I thought about Tricia.

My _girlfriend_.

"Shit," I breathed, staring across my room at the wall. "Oh, _shit_."

"Blink..." And Mush, too, seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, God, Blink. Shit."

"I think... I think you should go home," I said, running my hands through my hair, trying to rid it of Mush's erotic touch.

"Shit, Blink. Shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Mush was blinking away tears furiously. "Shit..."

He kept mumbling as he stood up. The bed's springs creaked loudly, and he made his way to my window in somewhat of a daze.

I was shaking, trembling. Hot tears filled my eyes. What the hell is wrong with me?

"Blink... I... I have to know," he said, turning back with a determination not characteristic of him. "You... you were kissing me back, you know."

The headache from the morning was back, louder than before. I pressed a hand to my forehead in an attempt to squelch it. "I know," I admitted. "God, I know."

"So..." He took a deep, shaky breath. "Does that mean..."

"I don't know what it means, okay? Goddammit, Mush!" I grabbed his sandals, lying beside me on the floor next to my bed, and threw them at him with all the intention of hurting him. "Just... go home."

"Okay." He turned to the window, then once more seemed to steel his nerves. He turned back around and his face was so serious. "In case you wondered. It meant a lot to me. Even... even if it was wrong. It still was right."

"Go!"

And he left. My thoughts were so heavy, I didn't even hear the inevitable crash of him leaping onto his own roof. I flopped backward on my bed, then immediately jumped up, not wanting to think on what had just happened there. The bedspread was rumpled guiltily. I straightened it out, wondering if you can disinfect bedspreads with Lysol.

The overhead light seemed obscene in Mush's absence. So I flicked it off again and felt slightly calmer to be back in the dark. I looked through my window to Mush's, wondering just how he was taking all this. But his light was out, too, and I couldn't see him in the dark.

I called Tricia.

"Hello."

The voice that answered was male, and definitely not her dad or brother. In fact, it sounded an awful lot like... "Dutchy?"

The phone clattered as though it had been dropped, and I heard a lot of cursing until Tricia picked it up breathlessly. "Hello?"

"Trish. Hey."

"Hey," she said, not sounding all that thrilled to be talking to me.

"...Was that Dutchy who picked up your phone?"

"No, of course not. That was my cousin, Steve. He's a bit of a klutz. He dropped the phone, the oaf. Who's Dutchy, again?Ó

My mind cleared. Of course it wasn't Dutchy; they'd only met perhaps once. I figured it must've been the loony events of the night which had caused my lapse in judgment. "It's not important. I haven't talked to you in a few days. How are things?"

"They're good. Look, I don't want to be rude, since Steve's only in town a few days and I'm playing tour guide." She made a kissing sound into the receiver. "Talk to ya later."

Then she hung up.

I stared at the phone for a minute, then dropped it into its cradle with a sigh.

I walked to my window and peered across again. Even though my eyes were adjusted to the darkness of night now falling upon us, I still couldn't make out Mush in his room. "Mush?" I called, feeling like an utter fool. There wasn't a response.

It was the first time since the first night I'd moved there that he hadn't responded immediately when I called his name.

What have I done?

**]*[**

**lately i've been wandering off the narrow path  
you've given me so many things that i never had  
all in all i know it's you that always pulls me through  
if you reach deep inside, you'll see my heart is true  
cuz i hate the way i feel tonight  
and i know i need you in my life  
yes i hate the way i feel inside  
and i promise to make the sacrifice  
**[12 stoneÕs how i feel tonight]

**]*[**

**[mad apologies, but no shoutouts this chapter.** Obviously, IÕve had this chapter written forever, but IÕm still getting used to my Apple comp *huggles it* and my shorter-lasting Internet connection *glares* É both which are making my shoutouting experiences very hard. Sigh. But thanks to everyone who reviewedÉ you guys really are why IÕm still writing this story. **Aura** ][ **MushÕs Skittles** ][ **Angel of Harmony** ][ **geometrygal** ][ **Shade** ][ **hilaRyB** ][ **Thumbsucker Snitch** ][ **Caroline Gottschalk Jackson** ][ **studentnumber24601** ][ **Frogger No Baka** ][ **Stage** ][ **Rumor** ][ **Nerikla** ][ **FidgetConlon** ][ **Gothic Author** ][ **unnamed** ][ **Pyromaniacal Llama** ][ **Kitty** ][ **Hotshot** ][ **Tabloid** ][ **GLimmer Conlon OÕLeary** ][ **Cathryn** ][ **Keza: Queen of Procrastination** ][ **misprint** ][ **Ginny Jake** ][ **Broadway** ][ **Artemis-chan** ][ **Natsume-Kun** ][ **Sparkle Kelly Conlon** ]

**[special shoutouts to _Keza: Queen of Procrastination_**** and _Broadway_****, aka Kezles and Kimi, for reading/reviewing all six chapters in a row. Glad you ladies are reading!! XD]**

Shoutouts *will* be returning next chapter. I promise.

Thanks everyone!


	8. chapter eight: racetrack

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

**[disclaimer: Mondie owns Pinhead, Logan, and Enrique. Disney and respective families own the newsies. The characters' portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's with vague helpings by Disney. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.**]****

**[chapter eight: racetrack]**

[chapter written: july 14-august 2, 2003]

[chapter re-typed on a crappy pc because ffn isn't compatible with her lovely iBook: november 29 and december 24, 2003]

**]*[**

**((Author's Note: For the few people who have already read through this chapter, there have been more improvements. Nobody has read the full version of the chapter except me. The end revelation is perhaps the only thing of importance… the other additions are just little things thrown in here and there.**))****

**((Second Author's Note: I know I promised shoutouts for this chapter, but ffn not accepting this chapter EVER TIME I TRIED TO UPLOAD IT pissed me off and I really just wanted to post this. But I wanted to make sure and send a loud THANK YOU to those people who keep reviewing over and over, up to two of you on December 24, which keeps me focused and loving the story the way I do. Also, mad props to **Mush's Skittles**, who always keeps me on my toes for this story. Thanks to everyone, and I promise those shoutouts WILL eventually be given. It's gonna be one hell of a list when we get to it…****))**

September 29, 2003

            I was up at five am to go to school. Five am! Doesn't anyone care how incredi-fucking-bly early that is? Good God, Mary Magdalene, and Samson's Delilah! I don't even get up that early on Friday mornings, when I have earlybird physics lab. God, the teacher of that class is insane, by the way. Who in their right mind would schedule a class for 6:40 am when he'll have to put up with a bunch of aggravated, sleepy teenagers? But then again, Weasel ain't right in the head. We all know that.

            But anywho, Cowboy said we were meeting at the school at 5:30 am, to ward off any of those early nerds who go in two hours before the first bell to chat with the janitors or whatever the fuck they do. And that meant I had to get up at 5. I rolled out of bed – literally. If you haven't seen me in the mornings, you're lucky. I'm not the most coherent person. I looked at myself in the mirror and shrugged off my rumpled and messy appearance – no one at school cared enough about me to notice that I looked like complete shit. …Except maybe Specs, but he notices everyone's fashion don'ts, whether he's friends with the person or no. And that's one of the things you've got to admire about the guy: he doesn't pretty up the world and compliment everyone. He's got one of the most critical eyes I've ever seen. And it really, really helps, especially when he's proofreading a paper for Lit or something. He was my savior last year in AP English 11.

            Yawning, I gulped down some toast with blackberry jam and a scrambled egg and some pulpy orange juice (my favorite) and got outside to my car fairly quickly. I arrived at the school at 5:27 – not bad. Not bad at ALL.

            "Racetrack is in the hizzouse!" I shouted as I locked my car and sauntered across the lawn to the measly group assembled. Apparently I'm not the only one who finds it hard to wake up at five-fucking-o'clock in the morning. The only other ones there were Cowboy, Boots, Bumlets, Pinhead, and Mush. "Mornin', fellas!"

            "Mornin', fuckhead-loser-asshole," Pinhead greeted, his eyelids half-mast as if he hadn't fully woken up yet. I wondered if he'd driven to school like that. I held out my hand and we did our secret handshake.

            "You guys are gay losers," Cowboy said, rolling his eyes. He cast a sidelong look at Mush as he realized what he'd said. "No offense."

            "None taken," Mush said, and he too seemed out of it. He was looking around anxiously though, which didn't seem to match his voice. "Anyone seen Blink?" he questioned.

            "You're the one who lives next door to him," I pointed out.

            "Yeah, I know," he agreed, looking worried.

            "Dude, your hair is…" Pinhead trailed off, staring at me, shaking his head wordlessly.

            "My hair?" I asked incredulously. Like anyone ever notices my hair! "What's wrong with it?"

            Everyone's eyes swiveled to my head, and then they all burst into laughter.

            "Did you put bleach in it or something?" Bumlets asked.

            "Bleach?!" I shouted. "What the _fuck_ are you fuckheads talking about?"

            "Dude. Your hair's like… orange. No shit." Pinhead was trying not to laugh, but he wasn't being quite successful.

            "Fuck! Say what?!" I yelled, my hand flying to my hair. "No! It's blue!"

            Mush seemed to forget his preoccupation with Blink as he covered his mouth with his hand, giggling. "I think I've got an extra hat in my car, Race," he offered.

            "Really? Oh, God, thanks! Mush, you're a fucking lifesaver," I sighed.

            He jingled his keys as he danced off toward his car. Dude, no one prances quite like that boy. He returned a few seconds later carrying a black silk top hat.

            "You shit!" I exploded, as the other guys burst into laughter all over again. "I ain't wearing that!"

            "Oh. So you like your hair orange?" he asked, blinking at me innocently.

            I grabbed the hat from his hands and jammed it over my head, pouting like no one's business. "There. You guys happy?" I said, glaring at each of them in turn.

            "Ooh! You look classy," Mush promised.

            Which made me wish I could take it off even more.

            "Why's it so cold out here?" Pinhead asked. He was shivering.

            "Dude, you gotta learn it's not California here," Cowboy said. "Sandals aren't year-round fashion accessories, kid."

            "Yeah, well, they should be," he answered seriously.

            The other boys began trickling in. First Davey, apologizing madly for being late, but his little brother had hidden his school books (at which point Cowboy pointed out that Davey wouldn't _need_ his school books today, as we were boycotting classes, and at which point Davey glared, opened a book, and very deliberately ignored Cowboy); then Snoddy; Crutchy, who had a disturbing amount of hickeys on his neck; Snitch and Skittery, who were holding hands and completely oblivious to the rest of us (I wondered if they'd fucked in the car and that was why they were late… and judging by the streak of sweat still raised on Skittery's forehead, not to mention the way Snitch kept licking Skittery's face and hands and every other exposed piece of flesh, I was right); Kid Blink, who kept a surprising distance from Mush but kept his eyes focused on him alone; and then everyone else. Spot straggled in last at 6:59, and he sat on the very edge of the circle and had this "impress me" look on his face. Shitting kid thinks he's WonderBoy or something!

            Specs was back to wearing his amazing amount of makeup again, and was also back to being the fashion plate he's always been. He had on those stockings that hookers wear… I think they're called fishing nets? Something like that. Those stockings, and a pair of leather shorts that were practically halfway up his ass, with a dark green unbuttoned dress shirt hanging loose over a starched and bleach-white wifebeater. God, he looked strange. But it was nice to see him back in his usual attire.

            Nice? _Usual_?

            God, I should probably be shot for saying that.

            He also had all that sparkly gunk around his eyes, and that pink shit on his lips. He didn't even try to stare down Dutchy this day. Instead, he appeared to be focusing his attention on … … … Well, it sounds real fucking stupid, but on Spot Conlon.

            Which is just about the most shitting absurd thing I've ever said.

            SPOT?! Specs wasn't just on the rebound if that was the case, he was looking to kill himself. Because Spot Conlon would rather kill his mother with a coat hanger and a piece of string than turn gay.

            Is it possible to turn gay?

            Anywho, to have sexual relations with a gay man. There. That works. Is that politically correct? Oh, who the hell cares. It's not like anyone's gonna read this, anyway.

            And Mush and Blink were sitting next to each other, but weren't talking. Which was really shitting weird. Cuz usually Mush can't keep his hands off Blink, and Blink can't stop trying to get Mush to leave him alone.

            Man, I hate when the world gets fucking turned upside-down! It confuses the hell out of me.

            A few kids had started showing up by 7, at which point Cowboy sent a few groups of kids to the other two entrances to the school. Most kids use the front doors, but a few use the other doors. It wasn't so hard to convince the kids to join our cause. Most of them wanted out of school anyhow. And the ones who didn't were friends with Davey, who convinced them they should be on our side.

            It wasn't until 7:10 that we were met with real resistance, from a few of the fuckhead jocks.

            "We like getting out of school, but there's no way in _hell we're doing it on your terms," said one particularly thuggish jock. I'd tell his name, but I honestly have no idea what it is. They all look the same…_

            "Yeah?" Cowboy said, pulling Pie Eater up with him. Pie Eater's one of those tall, large guys who could probably kick the shit out of any of those jocks. He's also on the wrestling team, so I bet he knows all sorts of tricks to like paralyze people and shit. Mush got up too, and it's well-known throughout school just how buff Mush is. He flaunts his body enough that it's hard to miss. "Well, I say our terms."

            "I say you're full of shit, Kelly," the boy sneered.

            I looked over at Spot, and he seemed to be enjoying this just a bit too much, I decided. He looked like all of his prayers had just been answered. I knew he didn't believe in us, but that was a little ridiculous – Jack's like his fucking best friend!

            "I say that _you're_ full of shit, Connor," Cowboy answered. He pulled back his fist and before Connor knew what was happening, he'd been knocked backward ont he ground. Immediately Jack was on top of him, pummeling him. It was like a floodgate. Suddenly all of us were fighting all the jocks.

            It was a very short, not-quite-classy fight. We all ended up with a lot of bloody noses and bruises.

            "Shit, I think my eye's broken!" Boots yelled.

            "Shut up, you can't break your eye," I told him. We were all standing in a line now, panting, wiping blood and sweat off our brows. The jocks were standing in a similar line facing us, and we all looked like pure unadulterated SHIT.

            The bell rang.

            "Truce?" Cowboy said to Connor.

            Connor sneered. "Not on your life, pansy." He pushed through, and his friends followed him into the building.

            "I'm a cowboy and you're a pansy!" Cowboy shouted after him, his gaze dark. The jock in the back of the line laughed and flipped him off.

            It really wasn't so bad though – there were maybe twenty-fucking-five of them, and we had a group of about three hundred hanging with us on the lawn. Even Spot couldn't help but look impressed.

            The second bell rang, and everyone looked gleeful to be missing school like this, despite all of our new injuries. Suddenly the school's doors banged open, and out strode Mr. Pul-fucking-itzer himself.

            "Carlton!" he yelled, practically racing across the lawn to where Crutchy stood, frozen. "How dare you?" he hissed. Luckily, I was close enough to hear the conversation.

            "I'm sorry, sir," Crutchy squeaked, looking scared to a deathful damnation in hell.

            "You slime! You creep!" Mr. Pulitzer yelled. "I expect better of you! You're one of my personal office assistants, goddamn you!"

            "I'm sorry, sir."

            "You have in-school suspension. Starting now. Get inside." Mr. P. turned to the rest of us. "Everyone else, too. Or else I'm calling the cops."

            "You'll have to catch us first!" Cowboy yelled.

            The Big P walked over to him and grabbed his ear. "I should put you in ISS too, Mr. Kelly."

            Cowboy-the-fuckhead stared at him defiantly. "Put me in, I'll just get back out. Like last time. Boy, Pulitz, do you remember the look on Warden's face when I got that pardon from ISS from the fucking President of the United States of America?" He grinned maniacally.

            "His name is not Warden, Mr. Kelly. It's Mr. Snyder. And you'd do well to pay someone respect." He dragged Jack with him to the school building. "Asshole."

            Jack gave a loud, fake gasp. "Sir!"

            Mr. Pulitzer rolled his eyes. "You lot, come too."

            We all looked at each other, then, shoulders sagged, made our way to the school building. We couldn't do this without our leader. 

            But as we headed in, hasty whispers played Telephone through our large crowd. Whispers that tomorrow, we'd be better prepared.

            I noticed Walkin' Mouth standing alone, his mouth gaping open, staring at the grouping of trees in front of our school. I punched his shoulder. "You okay?"

            He turned to me and looked scared shitless. "Uh-huh," he said, his voice scratchy. He shook his head as he looked at the trees again, and seemed to have cleared his mind. "Peachy."

**]*[**

            Lunchtime came, and with it, a meeting that consisted of the entire student body. Well, minus Connor and his jock friends. We didn't miss them.

            I sat on the grassy ground beside Mush. Kid Blink came wandering over a minute later with the school lunch, meatloaf, on a tray. He hesitantly sat down between Mush and I, and I noticed a bittersweet glaze come oozing over Mush's eyes.

            The meeting basically consisted of Cowboy crowing a lot about the injustices of the world and handing out fliers that Davey had made signaling important details about the next day. We would be prepared tomorrow. And nobody – not even fucking Pulitzer himself – would change our minds.

            Cowboy also decided that the group of us – the "original group" – should meet that night to discuss things. Everyone was basically free, except a few bums that had to work (Mush, Blink, and Swifty). We tried to decide on a location to meet at.

            "What about your house, Bumlets?" Itey suggested. "It's huge, man."

            This set Mush into giggles. When he'd finally calmed down at the suggestion of anything of Bumlets' being "huge," Bumlets attempted to keep his modesty intact by politely trying to decline.

            "Yeah, it's a big house," he said softly. "And with good reason. I have thirteen siblings."

            Boots brightened. "Someone has a bigger family than mine?"

            "Well, they won't bother us, will they?" Walkin' Mouth asked.

            Bumlets looked doubtful. "I guess not, if Mom tells Alexis to leave us alone."

            At the mention of Alexis, I noticed Blink and Mush exchange a surprised glance. Then they looked away from each other. 

            "All right then! Bumlets' house it is!" Cowboy decided. "7:00, shall we say?"

            Everyone agreed. Well, except Davey. Walkin' Mouth was staring at the edge of the school grounds, with the same panicked look he'd been wearing earlier.

            "Dave? You okay?" I asked again.

            His eyes snapped to me, and he swallowed hastily. "Yup. Yup, I'm fine. I just … thought I saw … but never mind, I'm just stupid."

            "I'll second that," Spot called. I've never seen Davey glare so furiously at anyone else in my life.

            The bell rang, and we went back inside for the exciting world of Singing Fun with Ms. Drizzle.

**]*[**

            Dinner was excellent. My dad fixes the best pizza in the world. It's how he won over my mom, even though she was a dark-haired Italian vixen and he's just a poor son of immigrants from Ireland. Even though Mom died a long time ago, Dad still fixes his kick-ass pizza for us.

            "So. This strike thing. It's kinda weird," my little brother, Jimmy, told me.

            I picked an olive off my slice of pizza and threw it at him. "It gets you out of class, bum. You should be thanking me."

            "I didn't say I _wasn't_ thanking you. I just said it's kinda weird."

            "Speaking of which, I have a little shindig to get to tonight," I told Dad. "It starts at seven, so it shouldn't take too long. But don't bet the farm on me being home on time."

            Jimmy looked at me strangely. "Marce, we don't live on a farm."

            I rolled my eyes. "It's an expression, dumbass." Really, freshmen are so out of it.

            "Hey! Language!" Dad said, throwing a garlic roll at me. "Marcelo, you know better."

            I nodded and threw the garlic roll back at him. "But who do you think I learned the language from?" I adopted my mother's Italian accent and said, "Surely not from my innocent mama!"

            "Smartass," Dad shot at me. I smirked. He sighed. "Point taken."

            I drew a 1 in the air with my finger, then helped myself to more pizza. I sighed. "This pizza is heaven," I said, closing my eyes and savoring the fumes.

            An instant later, the fumes – as well as the pizza – were shoved up my nose. I opened my eyes to see both Jimmy's and my father's hands had shoved the slice into my face. Both were grinning like maniacs.

            "Oh!" I cried. "It's on!" I picked up everything I could get my hands on and began throwing it in random directions. Dad got a faceful of parmesan cheese, while Jimmy ended up sporting tomato sauce in his hair. Of course, they retaliated.

            By the time dinner was over, the kitchen (not to mention the three of us) was in complete shambles.

            "And this, boys," Dad deadpanned, "is why your mother discouraged male bonding at dinner."

**]*[**

            "Hey, Race," Bumlets said. "You're one of the first people here."

            "Holy shit!" I moaned. "Ass! Man, I'm completely ruining my rep by showing up at places like, on time!" I gave a half-hearted wave to Walkin' Mouth, who was peering around corners in paranoia, and Pinhead, who was standing on his head against a wall for no reason that I could see.

            "Watch the language," Bumlets told me in a low tone. "Mom'll freak if you swear in front of the little kids. She's already mad that I have like twenty guys coming over tonight."

            As if she heard her son talking about her, Mrs. Swanson entered the foyer where we stood.

            "Mom, this is Marcelo," Bumlets told her.

            "Hi, Mrs. Swanson. You have a lovely home. Thank you so much for allowing us to – what do you call it? – occupy your sincerely gorgeous residency this evening," I told her in my most Italian accent. Using it at dinner against Dad had put me in the mood to play Italian. I stepped over to her, hugged her tightly, and kissed both of her cheeks in the same fashion as my uncle Ronaldo at Christmastime. "Bella!" I cried.

            Bumlets was staring at me, horrified, while Pinhead struggled not to pass out (the combination of blood to his head and my Italianness was making him giddy, I think), and even Davey stopped examining the wall for secret hidden passages long enough to scratch his head at me. Mrs. Swanson giggled like a school girl and patted me on the head.

            "It's no problem whatsoever, Marcelo," she answered. "Would you like some cookies?"

            "Mom," Bumlets warned.

            I smiled winningly at her. "I'm afraid that I already consumed a large meal this evening. Perhaps I shall have to take a checkrain on that order."

            Pinhead burst into hysterical giggles.

            "Marce, we call it a 'raincheck,'" Bumlets said, trying desperately hard to not get exasperated at me.

            I ran to him and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. He emitted a short scream. I turned back to Mrs. Swanson and mimed brushing away a tear. "My American friends are so helpful," I told her.

            Mrs. Swanson beamed. "That's my boy," she said proudly, then at Bumlets' prodding gleefully nodded and went back down the hallway and into the kitchen.

            "What _was_ that?" Bumlets hissed at me.

            "You are _seriously_ fucking crazy," Pinhead told me, still hiccuping from laughing too hard. He swung himself down from the wall and walked over to me to shake my hand. "You're really, truly fucking crazy."

            "I dunno, I think he's just really, awfully cute," someone giggled. I looked over to the doorway, where a pretty girl stood. She had Bumlets' hair, and a grin that lit up her entire face, just like his.

            "Marleen, go away," Bumlets sighed.

            "Marcelo and Marleen," the girl grinned. "It's kinda got a ring, eh?" She flounced into the room. "Introduce us!"

            Bumlets sighed. "He's got a girlfriend, Mar."

            "That doesn't matter. Girlfriends can be dumped," Marleen said, very matter-of-factly. I cracked up, thinking of how horrified Denise would be if she heard _that_.

            "Marleen, this is Marcelo, aka Racetrack, aka Race. Race, this is one of my younger sisters, Marleen. She's sixteen, newly-licensed, and newly-allowed to date."

            "And extremely horny," added another voice. "You can use that to your advantage, man." In the doorway she'd just made vacant now stood a younger, flabbier version of Bumlets. "I'm Michael, one of the triplets with Mar here, and Michelle."

            Pinhead and I exchanged amused looks as a few more dark-haired, big-smiled children ventured into the room. Perhaps we should have listened to Bumlets when he said his house might not have been the best suggestion for a party. Eh, whoops.

            The doorbell rang. But whoever was pressing it didn't let up. The tone kept going and going, so much so that the littlest girl in the foyer with us ran out screaming, covering her ears. A few of the other children ran after her, leaving us with Michael, Marleen (who had attached herself to my arm), and a girl named Alexis, who was glaring at all of us boys.

            Bumlets ran to the door and wrenched it open. He looked fairly curious to see who was ringing the doorbell so furiously, but when he looked out, he just shook his head and said, "Oh."

            I went over and looked out, ignoring the still-ringing doorbell by now, and burst into laughter. Skittery had Snitch pressed up against the wall next to the door, and was kissing him forcefully. Snitch's back was pressed against the doorbell.

            The sound of my laughter alarmed the two love-fucking-birds, who stopped kissing to look over at me. They seemed completely unembarrassed by their being caught, and kinda sighed as they walked past Bumlets and me into the house. Seemed they'd wanted to stay outside macking on the doorstep…

            Mrs. Swanson came running to see who had been at the door. Bumlets looked aggravated. I was willing to bet he'd tried to keep his family away from us, but his mom was acting like the neighborhood fucking Welcome Wagon. The scenario made me laugh.

            "Hi!" she chirped, though looking a bit taken aback at Skittery's piercings and dark black makeup, much of which had, by this time, rubbed onto Snitch's otherwise clean-cut face.

            Bumlets went through the introductions again, sounding bored, and Skittery and Snitch were quite polite to her, as is their custom. She lingered just a few minutes too long, though. While she pretended to inspect dust on the hallway table, the couple decided they'd been apart for far too long. Snitch backed Skittery against the banister of the staircase, and Skittery grabbed Snitch's ass with a loud slapping sound, which gave way to their moans as they began making out with fervor again.

            Mrs. Swanson's mouth dropped open as she stared at the sight. Bumlets took his cue and ushered her out of the foyer. Alexis went running up the stairs, squealing with almost fright as her feet pounded past Skittery and Snitch.

            Everyone else arrived without much hoopla, and Mrs. Swanson only peeked into the front hall, no longer insisting upon introductions. I waved at her when she stuck her nose in to see Dutchy. She smiled shyly at me and giggled, before sneaking away again. Bumlets watched this and shook his head. "I think my mom has a crush on you." I snickered.

            We headed upstairs once everyone had arrived. Bumlets turned off into a room littered with Barbies and frothy pink curtains.

            "Dude, your room fucking sucks," Pinhead told him.

            Bumlets rolled his eyes. I was beginning to see why he didn't invite people over to his house. "Up here." He walked to the closet and pulled down a ladder from a hole in the ceiling inside his little sisters' closet. We all climbed up one at a time into his actual attic room.

            "Did you just paint?" Itey asked politely. "It smells like paint. I enjoy the teal color."

            "Thanks," Bumlets answered. He motioned around his room. "Sit down."

            It was at this point that I realized that Bumlets had been talking nearly all evening and I hadn't even thought of it as abnormal. Pretty fucking cool! Seemed Bumlets was coming out of that stupid shell he'd imprisoned himself in.

            We all sat around the room. It was noticeably easier to breathe with the absence of the stiff silence of Mush and Kid Blink from earlier that day. I chose to lay down on the floor, stretching out on my stomach. Pinhead sat beside me, and Crutchy and Davey sat on either side of us. In fact, it was like that all over the room – members of Jack's group mixing with members of ours. There didn't even seem to be two groups anymore.

            Really, really fucking strange.

            And really, really fucking awesome.

            What was intended as a time for us to organize for the next day, instead turned into a hanging time. Snitch and Skittery had chosen the bed as their seat, and were flattened on it, kissing and moaning and generally reducing the rest of us to hurling. Bumlets fucking _tried_ to get them off his bed, but they ignored him, so he sighed and sat back down.

            As for me, I just wished Denise had come with me, so I had someone to make out with, too.

            Jake and Snipeshooter were shooting anxiety-filled glances at the bed, but weren't looking at each other, and certainly weren't touching. It was cute, in the stupid-sophomore kinda way. It was also **really fucking retarded**, in the stupid-sophomore way.

            While Specs sang "Do You Hear The People Sing?" from _Les Miserables with great fervor and far too fucking much vibrato, Pinhead, Dutchy, Pie Eater, and Snoddy began playing video games, and I took bets on who would win. Pie Eater did, hands down. He's really fucking awesome at kicking ass with Link from Zelda, who was his best character to play with during this weird Mario Melee game or something._

            Apparently Pie Eater spends a lot of time playing video games.

            Skittery and Snitch passed the time by moaning louder and louder with each passing minute, until they were practically out-screaming each other. Ah, the joys of young love…. yeah. We drew the line when Skittery tossed Snitch's pants across the room and they landed on Boots.

            "Do you guys have any idea how gross you are?" Specs asked loftily.

            "Look who's talking," Snitch shot back. "You look like a fucking dominatrix in that outfit."

            Specs had replaced his respectable shirts from the school day with a black leather vest. Unbuttoned. With nothing underneath. Indeed, I too was a bit surprised that he wasn't carrying a whip around with him.

            "Really, I've been meaning to ask you – how in the _world_ do you keep your balls in those shorts?" Cowboy asked. "…Unless you don't have any, that is."

            "Those are fighting words!" Specs yelled, and soon we were all doing what boys do best: trying to kill each other.

            "Hey, shut up!" Cowboy said suddenly. We all froze.

            "What? I don't hear nothing, you fuckhead," I said, preparing to sink my teeth deep into Snipeshooter's leg.

            Then I heard it, too. The ringing of a cell phone. Coming from… Bumlets' closet?

            "Bumlets? Do you keep a phone in the closet?" Pie Eater asked.

            Bumlets grimaced, shaking his head as he stood up and walked over. "Just what I thought," he said after opening it. Out tumbled a dark-haired pixie of a girl – Alexis from earlier.

            "I am so telling Mom!" she screeched. "Those boys on the bed!" She pointed a shaking finger at Snitch and Skitts. "Oh, my GOD!"

            Skittery and Snitch exchanged a worried glance.

            "Relax," Bumlets told them. "Because she's not gonna tell anyone. Not unless she wants me to tell Mom what she did to my room a few nights ago when she was mad about not getting to hang out with her friends…"

            Some silent communication went on between the two of them, and finally Alexis sighed. "Fine, fine," she mumbled. "But you guys are still sick bastards." She ran over to where Bumlets had pulled up the attic stairs and climbed down. Bumlets pulled the stairs back up.

            "Man, your sister is one hell of a bitch!" Pinhead said cheerfully.

            Bumlets looked a bit aggravated. "I know. And that was too easy. She's planning something else."

            "How the hell do you live with her?" Jake asked. Everyone began sorting themselves out from the huge fighting mess we'd become. I noticed that he put his hand hesitantly on Snipeshooter's. I nearly cracked up laughing at their shyness. Even two dull and stupid boys can be good for amusement every now and then.

            "She's my sister. And I love her," Bumlets answered simply. "Now c'mon, I think Mom made brownies. And we can check to see what Alex is up to."

            We all headed back downstairs to the kitchen, and, after eating a delicious snack (I got seconds because I complimented the brownies in Italian and Mrs. Swanson decided she adored me), headed outside. Alexis hadn't pulled anything, and we all had to get home.

            "Dude… your window's broken," Pinhead told me.

            "What?" I ran to my car. Sure enough, someone had fucking broken out my driver's side window. I stared at it in shock. Somehow, though, my stereo system and speakers and everything inside was untouched, just glass-covered.

            "Someone let the air out of your tires, Pin," Dutchy said. He pointed to the rusty junker which Pinhead drives, and it was closer to the ground.

            "_All of our cars have been messed with," Cowboy said. He turned to stare at Bumlets. "Did your little sister do this, man?"_

            Bumlets shook his head. "No. …She wouldn't. She might not be the nicest person on the planet, but she wouldn't pull anything this extreme."

            "Oh, yeah?" Skittery said. He pointed to the mud next to the driveway. "Those shoe prints look awfully small." He scowled.

            "Look, she's not stupid enough to do this," Bumlets protested. "She'd get in _serious trouble for this. She wouldn't do this at all. She just wouldn't."_

            I had just noticed that my tires were flat, too. "Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do?" I exploded. I hugged my car's hood. "My baby is injured!"

            "Race, you fag," Cowboy said, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go inside and call the cops and tell them. And then call our parents to pick us up."

            We headed inside. Coming in through the back door to the kitchen at the same time as our own entrance was a small, thin, dark-haired Alexis. She was preoccupied with wiping mud off her shoes, and didn't see us until we'd already glimpsed the thick dowel she was carrying behind her back.

            "Alexis?" Bumlets asked incredulously. He seemed at a loss for words after that. "…My God."

            "It's not what it looks like!" she squeaked. "I didn't do it! Honest!"

            Bumlets looked about to scream or cry… or both. He grabbed her by the neck and shoved her into the living room. "You guys call your parents or whatever," he mumbled over his shoulder. "Alex and I need a talk with Mom."

            Shrugging, we complied.

            There was gonna be some **deep** shit boiling at the Swansons' house that night.

            Specs and I were the last two to get picked up by our parents. We sat on Bumlets' steps together. I was dying to ask him whether he was over Dutchy by now, and if he'd in fact been eyeing Spot earlier that day. But just before I opened my mouth, he asked me in that ridiculous accent of us whether I'd ever seen the musical _Jekyll and Hyde_, and since I hadn't, he decided that it was the perfect time for him to sing me a song called "Bring On The Men," I guess to introduce me to the play or some shit. "Soooooooooooooo," he wailed, drawing out the word to its longest fucking possible length, "let's bring on the men, and let the fun begin. A little touch of sin, why wait another minute? Step this way, it's time for us to play –"

            Luckily, my dad pulled into the driveway just then. I barely got away from Singing Diva Gay Man. But I think my first question was answered anyway… especially when he blew me a kiss as my dad pulled away. Dutchy appeared to be history.

**]*[**

**well, if you gots the poison, i've gots the remedy**

**the remedy is the experience**

**this is a dangerous liaison**

**i says the comedy is that it's serious**

**this is a strange enough new play on words**

**i says the tragedy is how you're gonna spend**

**the rest of your nights with the lights on**

**so shine the light on all of your friends**

**well, it all amounts to nothing in the end**

**i, i won't worry my life away**

[jason mraz's the remedy (i won't worry)]


	9. chapter nine: snitch

[anything but that]

[by mondie]

[started on may 4, 2003]

[**disclaimer: Mondie owns Pinhead, Logan, Enrique, and Adam. Disney and respective families own the newsies. The characters' portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's with some vague helpings by Disney. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.]**

**[chapter nine: snitch]**

[chapter written: august 16, 2003]

[chapter retyped: december 27, 2003]

September 30, 2003

            The day started full and bright. I must admit that I felt a bit dapper when I woke up, strangely enough as though I'd inhabited Mush's persona. Granted, I didn't dance to the shower. But I sure felt like doing so.

            "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair!" I sang as I lathered, rinsed, and repeated. Then I caught myself and realized that if I didn't stop acting like Specs on speed, my mother would send me to a loony farm. She already doesn't "get" the whole gay-me thing. She seems to think that it's a stage that I'll grow out of. Then again, she hasn't seem my extensive stash of male porn magazines.

            I threw on some clothing and headed to the kitchen, where I grabbed a cold Pop-Tart and breezed out the door after calling a hello to the random family members still half-asleep at the table. Skittery was waiting outside and kissed me hello as I buckled my seatbelt. He seemed preoccupied.

            "What's wrong, Skitts?" I asked, putting my left hand on his right one, which held the gear-changing-thingy in the car (yeah, so I'm not a car guy. So sue me). He shrugged and shook his head. But I'm well aware of the fact that _that_ means that he really does, in fact, want me to drag it out of him. So I persisted. "C'mon, tell me," I wheedled, as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb outside my house. I decided that this must actually be a big thing, because he was still pursing his lips sexily and not answering. "Skittery, if you don't tell me right now, I swear I'll never speak to you again."

            He looked sideways at me. "The reason why I keep you around has no need whatsoever for talking."

            I pretended to be outraged and punched at his arm. "Fine then! I won't do any sexual favors for you, either."

            "The door swings both ways, buddy," he warned.

            "Like Dutchy?"

            We both snickered a little, even though it was mean, and then Skittery finally sighed. "You wanna know what's wrong, Snitchells?"

            "You know I do," I answered seriously.

            "It's my parents." I inwardly sighed with aggravation; not toward my boyfriend, but toward his parents. They treat each other – not to mention him – so badly. It hurts for me to hear about it. But I'm the one he lets it all out to. "They… they keep fighting."

            "Are they gonna get a divorce?" I asked.

            He shrugged helplessly. "Mom wants one, but Dad doesn't because she makes more money than he does and he doesn't want to live on only his money. So she tells him to go get a better job, but he won't do that, because he's lazy. So he went out drinking last night…" Skittery stopped talking, and the knuckles on his left hand burned bright white as he clenched the steering wheel with all his might. "Snitch, I hate them." His voice broke. "I really, really do."

            I never know what to say when he tells me about his home life. I put my Pop-Tart down on the seat beside me and scooted over closer to him. "Pull over, Skitts," I told him.

            He followed my instructions, though he wouldn't look into my eyes. He leaned back in the driver's seat once he'd turned the engine off, and ran his long fingers through his dark, tangled hair, simultaneously exhaling as loudly as he could. I unbuckled both of our seatbelts and then crawled over so that I was sitting on his lap on his driver's seat. I hugged him close to me and he clung to my back. But he didn't cry. Skittery never cries.

            I kissed his forehead, then nestled him closer into my grip. I began combing my fingers through his haphazard hair. "What'd he do to you?" I asked.

            He shrugged into my chest. It was awkward, to be sure, two tall, gangly boys trying to fit on one Neon's driver's seat, but it was good to be so close. I knew that he needed this. His voice was muffled by my shoulder when he finally answered, and I could feel his voice vibrating through my body. "He tried to hit her. Mom. I got in the way."

            "Got in the way? Or tried to protect her?"

            Silence. Finally, he grumbled, "Tried to protect her. But that doesn't mean jack shit, you got me? I still don't like her anymore than him."

            "I know."

            "Anyway, he put my head into the fucking wall."

            I'd just figured that out. Mixed among the tangles of crazed hair was a patch of dried blood. My fingers worked to loosen it, but Skittery yelped in pain, so I left it where it was. I was silent. I just don't understand Skittery's dad. How can one person be so angry that he'd hurt his own son?

            "Then he left. He didn't do too much to me before then, just punched me a few times. A new cut here, on my arm…" He pointed to just above his left elbow. I raised my eyebrows. What he so lightly called a "cut," I would classify as a "gaping wound."

            "Why didn't you put a Band-Aid on it?" I chastised, as I leaned down to kiss it.

            "I know I'm gay, but that doesn't make me a pansy!" he yelled back. "Jesus Christ, Snitch!"

            I stiffened a bit, and didn't say anything.

            He sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just… everything sucks, you know? And I know I shouldn't take it out on you. You're the only person who ever listens to me, and I blow up at you. That's just _swell of me, isn't it?"_

            "You're allowed to be glum, Skitts," I told him. "Your family life… well, it sucks. Just don't be dumb. Yelling at the one person who can give you what you need isn't very smart."

            "Oh yeah?" he asked, looking vaguely interested. "You gonna give me what I need, Snitchells?"

            I grinned. "Well, we _are_ all alone in this nice little car…"

            He didn't even answer with words to that, just kissed me forcefully on my lips.

            God, I love him.

**]*[**

            Needless to say, we got to school a little behind schedule.

            Our friends all began laughing when we finally appeared, and Racetrack danced around us, proclaiming us the King and King of Fucking. I guess it didn't help our cause that I was beaming like an idiot, like I always do after Skitts and I have sex, and Skittery was looking kinda weepy, which is also his usual reaction. He may not cry, but he sure looks weepy an awful lot.

            Everyone laughed at us loudly.

            But we're used to everyone by now.

            Most of the school was again assembled on the lawn, and this time we had a plan. Everyone was already sitting in organized rows, and their arms were linked to people on either side. The people on the ends of the rows sat sideways and connected to the row behind or in front of them, so that it was one large snake of intertwined people. Skittery and I took seats at the end of it. I linked arms with the science geek beside me, and Skittery held my hand. Racetrack moved back into his spot, as did the few people who'd moved forward to mock us upon our arrival.

            "Holy shit, those kids weren't lying! Your school really _is having a strike!"_

            Being at the back, we heard the voice first. Craning around, we saw a strikingly good-looking boy – okay, he was irresistibly hot – holding a notepad and beaming. Blond hair to his chin, a firm jaw, wide shoulders, well-defined arms, a light tan, and a smile to rival Mush's. Not to mention a pose that sent my gaydar to a clanging alarm.

            Skittery and I, being the strike group's members closest to the boy, stood up and walked over to him. "I'm Snitch – Martin – and this is Skittery – James – and we're some of the organizers of the strike," I introduced. "Who are you?"

            He grinned and shook my hand, then Skittery's. "Name: Adam. Age: 17. School: the shitty public school across town. Occupation: Journalist. Status: Single. And you: cute." He winked at me. "Are you taken?"

            I smiled at him, though he was blinding me with his sparkling blue eyes and I wasn't really sure what he'd said at all after his name. Then my arm was yanked upwards. I realized that a scowling Skittery had re-grabbed my hand and thrust our joined fists in Adam's face. "He's taken," Skitts said with a grimace. I smiled wider at my boyfriend. I like when he's possessive.

            "Too bad," Adam said, kissing his pointer finger and touching it to my lips.

            There was a dangerous low growl erupting from Skittery's throat, so I hastily moved back a step. "You might was to talk to Cowboy, aka Jack Kelly. He's like in charge."

            "Will do," Adam answered, as Skittery went stomping back to where we were supposed to sit. I watched Adam walk by me, and he licked his lips at me before totally disappearing. I smiled inwardly, then hurriedly jogged to my seat beside Skittery.

            "What was that?" he asked, glaring at me.

            "What?" I asked innocently. "Other boys aren't allowed to think I'm cute?"

            "No."

            "You used to think I was cute."

            He sighed. "I still think you're cute, Snitchells."

            I pouted. "You never say it."

            He looked over at me and burst into laughter. "Fag," he said, shoving me sideways. I laughed too. The science geek was looking at me in revulsion now. That only made me laugh harder.

            "Hey! _HEY!" We looked up to see Mush standing in front of us, hands on hips, dressed beautifully (as always) in black slightly flared dress pants and a bright blue silk button-down shirt, which was unbuttoned except for the two bottommost buttons. His brown eyes were as wide as they would go. "Who is he, why is he here, and why is he talking to Cowboy when he could be talking to _moi_?"_

            "Who? Adam?"

            "Adam…" And Mush followed this with a massive sigh, as though this name was the only perfect name for such a creature.

            "He's a journalist from the public school's paper, I think," I told him.

            "I. Want. Him," Mush said, turning and staring toward where Adam had found Cowboy and was jotting answers on his notepad as he fired off questions.

            "I'm sure he wants you, too, Mush," Skittery said in a monotone. "Why don't you go find out?"

            Mush grinned. "Absolutely! Great idea, Skittery." He set off at a determined pace… or what would have been a determined pace, had he not been dancing and therefore doubling his traveling time.

            Then we were all distracted from Mush's gesticulating limbs as the whine of several sirens cut through the air. Police cars pulled up in front of the school, and Cowboy's face took on an intense look of determination. He waved Adam away, and shouted that everyone had to link arms again. Some of the kids who had stopped doing so because of their arms falling asleep or, in Race's case, to start a game of cards, immediately linked up again.

            Mr. Pulitzer strode out of the school building with Hertz and a few other school officials in tow, and yet they ignored all of us kids as they stepped over – and sometimes on top of – random students to get to the police cars. Then they each got into the passenger seat of a car, and the cars pulled away.

            Silence.

            "That was weird," Snipeshooter, always one for stating the obvious, finally said.

            "Well, looky, looky what we got here," said a loud voice from the school building. All of our faces, which had been turned backward, looking at the empty place where the cars had momentarily been before, snapped back forward to look at where the resident jocks now stood. Only problem, they seemed to have multiplied. Adam seemed to recognize some of them, and started backing away. I therefore figured that the other unknown jocks were public school jocks.

            For some reason, the public school jocks were a lot larger than our private school jocks. A **lot** larger.

            Then they charged. Fighting broke out all over the place. It was hard to tell who was on what side. I ended up clobbering Snoddy, who likewise tried to maim me, before we realized we were on the same side. But despite our numbers, they had more fighting skills. Somehow thirty science geeks reciting some theory about pain being in a different realm than peace and how all of our trials were merely animations of the mind were silenced by one mighty blow of a jock's fist.

            "We're dying out here!" Cowboy groaned, as he was punched in the stomach by his oh-so-good friend, Connor.

            "Where's Spot?" someone asked. "Spot knows how to fight!"

            "He's probably off having sex with other Brooklyn boys," Walkin' Mouth said bitterly. All of us nearby stared at him.

            "Spot ain't gay!" Cowboy said, as Connor punched him square in the eye.

            "Like hell he isn't!" Davey answered. Then a smile streaked across his face. "You can ask him yourself." He pointed up to the small roof over the school building's entrance, which is only about ten feet off the ground. Sitting Indian-style upon it was Spot Conlon. He was staring at Davey.

            Then a weird, slow smile.

            "Never fear," he said, in his strong Brooklyn accent. "Brooklyn's queer." He pulled back on a slingshot and put a pebble right into Connor's face. Connor screamed. Spot smiled.

            And from nowhere came an onslaught of shouting, angry Brooklyn boys. I wondered how Spot had gotten them all here. But I didn't really care, because the Brooklyn boys were even better fighters than the public jocks.

            And we beat them.

            We beat them!

            As the jocks limped away, calling the Brooklynites crazy and crying to each other about the lack of fairness in the fight, I turned to find myself in Skittery's arms.

            "You were hot when you punched that jerk," he told my neck, then kissed my jaw.

            "You were hotter when you kicked that one football player in the groin," I mumbled, smiling as he licked my neck.

            "You were the hottest when you poked that guy in the eye and made his contact fall out," Skittery told me. I kissed the side of his mouth. He kissed me back.

            My tongue played a bit with the barbell going through his tongue. I felt his hands running up and down my sides, then they sought protection inside my pants.

            Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Cowboy yelling for all of us who are in the main striking group. "C'mon!" he yelled. "Denton wants to take a picture! For the paper!"

            Specs came over, and he looked a bit jealous as he shoved Skitts and me apart. "C'mon, queers," he said, pursing his lips bitterly. "Picture time."

            Skittery caught hold of my hand, and we followed Specs' sashaying walk up to where Cowboy was placing people for the photo on the school's steps. He put himself right in the middle, of course. Denton, the insane language arts teacher, was attempting to set up his camera. Skittery's hand rested on my ass. I looked up at him, and smiled as I buried my face in his neck, feeling the beating of his heart against my cheek, smelling the delicious scent of his Candies cologne, feeling nothing but happiness to be with him. He kissed the top of my head slowly. I hugged him tightly.

            "That's it! You two!" Denton yelled.

            Skittery tensed, and I took my cue from him. We both looked over. Denton was waving everyone else away. "I want you two. Martin, right? And… your… boyfriend." Skittery had never had Denton for class, but he was my study hall monitor first semester freshman year, and quite frankly I was very impressed that he remembered my name.

            But that didn't mean I wanted to pose.

            I buried my face further in Skittery's neck in mortification. But Skittery, his hands still on my ass, just stared forward at Denton.

            "That's it. Perfect."

            "So… now what?" Dutchy asked slowly, after Denton had packed up his camera and was interviewing Walkin' Mouth with fervor.

            "Now… we won?" Cowboy guessed.

            "Oh, no," Adam said. "You haven't won yet."

            "We haven't?" Cowboy asked. "But… we beat the jocks. Our strike is working. Now we just have to hang out, out here until Pulitzer decides to take the extra fee off."

            "But don't you see? You're now an example. Do you know how many gay kids are at the public school?"

            "…No?"

            "That's because nobody knows. The gay kids are scared to come out at the public school. But once they read this story… and just imagine! If you got the word out to gay students in other schools in the region, they could get rights too! You can't give up now, bud. Hate to break it to you."

            Suddenly, Davey squealed and pushed Denton away. "You!" he screamed. "You! I knew I saw you! Have you been stalking me?"

            Racetrack nodded to the rest of us while Walkin' Mouth stalked toward the kids from Brooklyn. "I thought he looked awfully paranoid yesterday. A bit like a fuckin' member of a C.I.A. who hasn't gotten down the way to look unsuspicious yet."

            Davey was marching quickly toward one of the Brooklyn boys, who had long brown hair and was grinning widely. "Miss me?" the boy asked.

            "You! You… you!" Davey seemed unable to form any other words than that.

            "That's Logan," Spot told us. "He and Davey had a bit of an… encounter in Brooklyn."

            "You mean…?" Specs asked, looking sideways at Davey, as though he'd never seen him before.

            "Yup," spot grinned. Then he sighed, and walked over to where Mush stood. He took him by the shoulders – a bit comical, since Spot is about three-fourths the size of Mush – and shoved him forward. Mush, caught unawares, couldn't even fall with style. But he still ended up right in the place he wanted to be… Adam's arms.

            "Whoa!" Adam said, wrapping his arms around Mush before he fell to the ground.

            Mush giggled. "Thanks for catching me," he said flirtily. Skittery snorted in laughter. Mush didn't notice.

            Adam grinned down at him. "No problem, cutie."

            Mush pushed his feet underneath him, and straightened up so that he was at his actual height – the same as Adam. Adam kept his arms around him. Mush grinned back at Adam. "My name's Micah, but everyone calls me Mush."

            "Adam," Adam said. Instead of shaking Mush's hand, he slid his hands down and put them on Mush's ass. Skittery turned to me, eyebrows raised. It had taken him and me at least two months before we grabbed each other there. But Adam nodded. "Nice, firm ass." He seemed to be appraising Mush. "You wanna go out next Friday night?"

            "I'd love to," Mush said.

            Adam scribbled his number on a piece of paper and put it in the waistband of Mush's pants. "Call me," he said. "I gotta get back to school."

            Mush grinned and waved his fingertips. Adam walked over to a motorcycle parked in the school bus spot and climbed on it. He winked and kissed the air as he slung his leg over it, then took off roaring down the road.

            "He rides a motorcycle," Mush said. I think he was having a heart attack. "God, he's hot."

            Skittery bit my earlobe. "God, you're hot," he whispered to me. I smiled and returned the compliment to him. And I wanted to have sex with him so badly right there and then that I wondered if anyone would notice if we went behind the shrubberies lining the school's property.

            Unfortunately, no such luck.

            Cowboy insisted that we all sit again in the grass, and didn't even let Specs out of it when he insisted that the grass was chafing his thighs. We all sat back down. This time Skitts and I were near the front of the school with the other strike organizers.

            Denton stood at the school's entrance. He was setting up his camera's tripod again. He took a picture of all of us sitting in the grass.

            "Notice. Weird things," Pie Eater said, leaning over to Skitts and me. "Mush, who is usually pining over Blink… staring at a slip of paper with someone else's digits on it. Blink, who's usually trying to convince Mush to move on… staring at Mush, as if hurt. Davey, who is usually inseparable from Cowboy, glaring at and yet sitting next to some boy who is friends with Spot. And Spot, who is the angriest homophobe in the entire world, has just come out to a group of hundreds of boys." He nodded conspiratorially at us. "This cannot be good."

            "Well, then," Skittery said. "Snitch and I will just have to be the stable things in this crazy, upside-down world." He began to suck at my neck. I laughed and shooed Pie away.

            "Everyone!" Race shouted, standing up. "I've got a great suggestion! Okay, so to get the word out to the other kids from other schools, we're gonna have a big party!"

            "Kegger!" shouted the science geek I'd sat next to earlier.

            "No," Denton said firmly. "Not a kegger, Tommy."

            "I'll provide the entertainment!" said a dreamy voice behind Denton. It was Ms. Drizzle, the Swedish choir instructor. Skittery burst into laughter and had to try and hide it by kissing me.

            "We'll have a rally! In City Hall," Cowboy shouted. "I'll organize it! Nobody worry, I've seen a movie about organizing strikes. All will be a-okay!"

            "Holy shit, we're having a fucking rally organized by a retarded cowboy, with support from a fuckhead language arts teacher, and a stupider than hell choir teacher is gonna lead the festivities," Pinhead moaned behind us. Then he grinned. "THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST FUCKING RALLY EVER!"

            Everyone cheered, however half-assed it ended up.

            "Saturday night," Jack said. He nodded. "It'll all be organized by then."

            Dutchy laughed, but nobody else did.

            Call us optimists.

            I kissed Skittery and molded myself into him. He looked so beautiful, with the sunshine shining and bouncing off his hair. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me. "I love you," he told me.

            "I love you, too."

            The kiss we kissed was with such fervor that we needn't have said anything at all. It was nice to say it, anyway.

            I think Specs scoffed behind us, but I wasn't really sure.

**]*[**

if you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss  
(or is it in his face?) oh, no, that's just his charm  
(in his warm embrace?) oh, no, that's just his arm  
if you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss  
kiss him, and squeeze him tight, and find out what you wanna know  
if it's love, it if really is, it's there in his kiss  
(how 'bout the way he acts?) oh, no, that's not the way  
and you're not listening to all i say  
if you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss  
[betty everett's it's in his kiss (the shoop shoop song)]

**[shoutouts!**

**[the ones that should've been on chapter 7…]**

**Aura ][ ****Mush's Skittles ][ ****Angel of Harmony ][ ****geometrygal ][ **Shade** ][ ****hRm ][ **Thumbsucker Snitch** ][ ****Caroline Gottschalk Jackson ][ ****studentnumber24601 ][ ****Frogger No Baka ][ ****Stage ][ ****rumor ][ **Nerikla** ][ ****SillyFidget ][ **Gothic Author** ][ ****unnamed ][ **Pyromaniacal Llama** ][ ****Kitty ][ **Hotshot** ][ ****GLimmer Conlon O'Leary ][ ****Cathryn ][ ****Queen Kez The Wicked ][ ****misprint ][ ****Ginny Jake ][ **Broadway1** ][ ****Artemis-Chan of Redwing ][ ****Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ ****The Supernatural Star Swami ][ ****Holiday ][ ****Carmen Maria ][ **Sinhe** ]**

**[chapter 8's]**

**Caroline Gottschalk Jackson ][ **Gothic Author** ][ ****Aura ][ ****studentnumber24601 ][ ****Sparkle Kelly Conlon ][ ****Pyromaniacal Llama ][ ****rumor ][ ****Sita-chan ][ **Broadway1** ][ ****SillyFidget ][ **Stage** ][ ****hil-billy ][ **Aguachica** ][ ****The Supernatural Star Swami ][ ****geometrygal ][ ****Mush's Skittles ][ ****Artemis-Chan of Redwing ][ **misprint** ][ ****Pesky the Gremlin Goddess ][ **GLimmer Conlon O'Leary** ][ ****Holiday ][ **GeckoPixie** ][ ****unnamed ][ **Skittles (again)** ][ ****sugarNspice2 ][ **Dakota-Jones** ][ ****Twitch ][ **Checkmate** ][ ****Cards ][ **Carmen Maria** ][ ****Sinhe ][ **Village Idiot** ][ ****Emily (Harlem) ][ ****Gryffin Parker ][ **B** ][ **Strawberri Shake** ][ **Uke-Twitch** ][ **sugarNspice2** ][ **fifi** ]**

**[and now… real shoutouts…**

**Aura** ][ Yay! I lurve that song… yay for Jekyll and Hyde! Especially for the mental image of a flaming boy singing it… ^_^ Sometimes my brain even amuses me. …Or all the time. Whatever. Thanks for the review hun!

**fifi** ][ Thank you for the list of things my story rocks!! Mucho appreciated. I'm really glad you like it so much that it would rock Bill and Ted. That's a MAJOR compliment there, as I'm sure you're well aware. :D Thanks for the reviews, and for making sure the review got put in the right place ^_^;; Hehe!

**B **][ I love you too! LOL

**Omni** ][ Thanks for the welcome back! I love you too! I did TRY to update, it's just that FFN hates me. *shrug* I like blue/orange-haired Race, too. ^_^ That poor boy, I just can't leave him alone… sad for him. hehe. Thanks for the review!! LOVE!

**SillyFidget** ][ Yes, I hate Alexis too. Yet there's some part of me that still likes her. I think it's one of those things how, even though you know someone is evil, you still adore them… like villains in Disney movies. Snitch/Skitts is one of my favorite pairings thanks to the great Lute, and I luuuurve Specs so much in this story. ^_^ And italian!race is one of my favorite Races EVER. EVER. ^_^ Thanks for the review!

**Cards** ][ *grin* Thanks love! I'm glad it made your entire DAY O_O Woo! Hope you survived dinner with strangers! LOVE

**Nakaia Aidan-Sun** ][ Thank you! Hope you had fun shoveling the snow… Hehe I heart snow. Thanks for the review!!

**Strawberri Shake** ][ Nope, I love this story too much to abandon it (yet, at least… lol). I've had this chapter and chapter 8 on my comp since August. Gah. I really don't remember the reasoning for Race's hair changing. I think I knew back when I wrote it… oh well. So funny how you mentioned the Brooklyn newsies, since they all showed up in this chapter… it's like you read my mind! O_O Oooh… hehe. Blink/Mush are confusing me now. I want them together, but they just won't settle down. *grumble* Damn boys… anyhow. Thanks for the reviews hun!

**Bobcat:slashgoil** ][ More disgustingly cuddly than Snitch/Skitts?? O_o Is that POSSIBLE? Hehe! Yes, I hope they get it through their heads that they're destined, too… -sigh- boys. Thanks for your reviews! :D

**Harlem** ][ Rule #1 of Mondiefics: Mush never dies. I could never live with myself if he died. ^_^ Since he's my favorite, I'd get veeeery bored with a fic (even moreso than usual) if my Mush died. Hehe thanks for the review!

**Gothic Author** ][ ***flying tackle-glomp*** I have missed your reviews SO MUCH! O_O Ooh, I can totally say "incredi-fucking-bly". It's kinda hard. But when you've got an oldschool curser like Race, it's no big deal. ^_^ Yes, top-hat'ed!Race is mucho hot. Throw in a pout and you've got orgasmic. hehe. I kinda like the name Marcelo. A LOT. I like Race's dad, too. I think he'd be a hot man. LOL! Yay, I want you to draw the scene! Please? Hehehe it would make me happy… *wheedles* I'm glad you love Pinhead! I love him too ^_^ Hehehe, Alexis Umbridge… You are MORE wonderful, luv!!! Thanks for your awesome review. I always love getting them. :D They make me happy!!! LOVE

**Sparkle Kelly Conlon** ][ Yay, I'm glad you were curious about Davey. I was wondering if I didn't put enough of his paranoia in, since nobody else commented on it. But I kinda thought when writing it that it was TOO obvious and I had to tone it down a little… I love Jason Mraz too! His CD is definitely one of my favorites. I'm currently addicted to "Too Much Food" and "Absolutely Zero". Thanks for the review!! :D

**Artemis-Chan of Redwing** ][ I love Italian!Race too ^_^ And I was just too amused with the prospect of writing Bumlets' family. "Bring On The Men" is totally one of my favorite songs. Hehe! Thanks for the review hun!

**Pyromaniacal Llama** ][ XD I'm glad to have finally updated again, too. I don't blame my iBook, I blame ffn… I don't know why it won't work . But it makes me mad! Hahaha yay for horny!snitch/skitts, they're so funny… I'm distressed over Mush/Blink too. Bastards, they just won't get along *grumble* Hehe thanks for your awesome review!!! :D It made me mucho happy.

**Frogger No Baka** ][ Hrm, did you read later? Or just review? LOL love you too, Froggie, even though you're mean to me without me doing anything to YOU. ^_^;;;;

**CapitalPunishment** ][ Yay for Phantom! I wonder if that's in my list of lyrics for Specs to use… hmm. I love Broadway too! Oh, Hasselhoff's insane, but what can ya do… hehe! Thanks for the review!

**misprint** ][ Of course, darling, Denise is modeled after YOU… so it's okay. Hehehe! Yeah, poor Alexis, she's just misunderstood… *eye shift* Er, right. ^_^ I lurve Bumlets' family all looking the same. It was too cute to pass up. Hehehe! Thanks for the review hun, mad mad mad mad love!

**Thumbsucker Snitch** ][ Hehehe I'm glad you shrieked and laughed ^_^ …Yeah, she *did* do it. It was more obvious in the first rendition of the chapter. But it was also so blaringly unlikely to happen that I had to change it ^_^ HEHEHE. Here's your horny Snitch/Skitts, luv. And YAY FOR JASON MRAZ WHO I WANT TO MARRY THIRTY TIMES OVER. He sang "The Rainbow Connection" in I Love The 70s and I nearly died. Hehehe!! Thanks for the review (after I bugged you for it).

**…end shoutouts! HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE, be safe! Review! YAY]**


	10. chapter ten: dutchy

**anything but that**

by mondie

started on may 4, 2003

**disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.  
therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.  
Mondie: I know.

**chapter ten: dutchy**

chapter written: January 11, 2005

Wednesday, October 1, 2003

It happened mid-sex, for fuck's sake.

I was on top, incredibly into it, my hands clutching to the sheets on either side of her face, her hair fanned out under her porcelain skin, her eyes squeezed shut. Her sheets are emerald green, real pretty, and she looked like a goddess upon them. Just like a fucking goddess in one of the books by Renaissance artists that we had used to sneak out of the library in grade school and laugh at the pictures of the naked women. I was comparing her to Eve, white flesh naked upon a dark green forest backdrop, when it happened.

She bucked her hips, dug her nails into my back, and screamed, "Oh, God! Blink! Fuck me harder!"

I stared at her for a minute, while her eyes opened and stared up at me. "Why are you stopping?" she demanded, digging her fingernails even further into my flesh. I didn't even register the pain.

I don't remember much after that, though I obviously pulled out and got on my clothes again, since when I clambered down the stairs a few moments later I was wearing my jeans and my sweatshirt. It seemed like my sweatshirt was all that I had that was really _mine_ anymore. I'd messed up my relationship with Specs, and Tricia had never been mine in the first place.

FUCK.

Tricia was yelling behind me all the way down the stairs. Usually we had to be real careful to be quiet when we had sex, but we'd skipped school today and her parents were at work.

"Get back here, Dutchy!" she screeched behind me, and the pounding of her bare feet against the slick polished wood of her staircase sickened me. I rushed to her front door, wrenched it open, and closed it in her face just as she caught up to me. Burying my hands deep in the pocket of my sweatshirt, I set off at a determined pace across her lawn, cutting through the alley behind her neighbor's house, and continuing to walk until I reached my car, which was parked, as usual, three blocks away from Tricia's house. Blink knows my car, and of course we couldn't have me parked at her house in case he drove by.

Unlocking my door, I sat down in the seat of my car and let it sink in.

Tricia didn't care.

I left Specs for her, and she was pretending I was Blink the whole time.

Fucking god_dammit_.

I saw her crossing the street toward me, and I locked the door. She was barefoot and wearing only her bathrobe. Her hair was quite obviously tousled from sex, and I couldn't even believe she didn't care that she was walking after me in front of the neighbors. Well, fuck her. FUCK. HER.

She tried to open my door, but I just flipped her off. She began pounding on the window, while I turned the key in the ignition and then put the car into drive. Smiling rather ironically, I stepped on the gas. She became smaller and smaller in the distance, wearing her stupid bathrobe and an enraged look.

I knew it was really my fucking fault, okay? I knew that she was just calling me because Blink's a pussy. I knew she had no fucking intention of actually dating me. But I let myself get caught up in all the stupid lies that I was telling myself, that we were in love, that I wasn't a stupid slut.

But, really, when it comes down to it, I'm nothing but a slut.

I didn't want to be with Specs because he's such a fucking drama queen, but what am I? I'm not even slightly better.

I looked at the clock.

2:00. Fuck. I couldn't even go home yet, because unlike fucking Tricia, my mom likes nothing better than lounging around the house while I'm not home and she would kinda notice my being home so early.

So I drove around.

I listened to a punk CD I'd mixed a while ago, but of course it all sounded fake and poppy and emo now. I ejected it and threw it in the backseat, along with all my other shit. Opening my glove compartment – my low-budget CD container – I grabbed the first CD my feeling fingers stumbled across and shoved it in the little slot. Not knowing what to expect, I nevertheless expected anything but what actually came out.

"Live in my house, I'll be your shelter…"

"What the _fuck_?" I screamed, staring at the CD player as if I had X-ray eyes and could magically see whatever the CD was. I was on the four-lane highway that splits our town at that point, stopped at a red light, and I hastily looked over into the car next to me, as if somehow the person sitting in that car could hear the Broadway show tunes playing in mine over his rap music. Luckily, he was too busy nodding his head to his too-loud bass to notice me and my pathetic little gay show.

Hitting eject, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the CD.

"Love – Broadway Style," Specs' loopy, swirly, girly writing announced to me. "For Dutchy, from Specs. Valentine's Day 2002."

2002? Lord, he'd made it forever ago. I'd probably just fucking thrown it in the glove compartment without listening to it once.

He deserved so much better than me.

Against my better, and even my worst, judgment, I popped it back into the CD player while I drove. In case other drivers could discern what I was listening to by my face, I never looked to either side, just straight ahead, as I drove and drove and drove. I listened to sickeningly sweet Sondheim songs after drippy Rodgers and Hammerstein, only to be followed by cringe-worthy Andrew Lloyd Weber and everything in addition and in between. The clincher was the last song – "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" from The Lion King. We always listened to that one together, because it was my favorite. His favorite was Rent, and for him, I'd seen it six times.

I turned off into the park and left my car in the parking lot, heading into the cool sanctuary of the trees. There's a big fountain in the middle, and I lay down on the cement ledge surrounding it. Every now and then some of its spray hit me, and it left sprinkles of water on my glasses. I had a headache, and feeling pained by everything I'd done and everything that had been done to me, I felt the tears slide, nearly unbeckoned by me.

For some reason or other, I was the only one in the park. A couple ducks were my sole company, and I was glad that they at least were nonjudgmental. In fact, they flat out ignored me once they realized that I didn't have any bread crumbs to share with them.

I lay there for a long time, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. Finally coming to the realization that I was just an ugly, ugly person with an uglier heart, I sat up and swung my legs to the grass, fully prepared to go drive again. The sun was setting now, and casting irregular shadows by its red beams. I nearly didn't see the two people approaching, but luckily the girl stepped on a twig, and I had enough time to dart to the other side of the fountain.

Peering from behind the giant glistening, sparkling fountain, I saw Bumlets and his little sister – the bitchy one; Alexis, I was pretty sure – sit just where I had been laying before. I edged slightly around to hear what they were saying. I figured I couldn't be further damned to hell for eavesdropping, after what I'd done, so this was rather just to see someone get yelled at and to make me feel slightly better about myself.

Bumlets was sitting on top of his hands, and didn't say anything for a long time. He shook his head a few times though, his black hair taking on a red glow in the setting sun's light. "Why, Alex?" he finally asked. "Why do you treat me – and my friends – like this?" His voice sounded defeated. "I don't do anything like this to you."

She stared at him. "You're all freaks, Pete. In case you didn't notice."

"But we don't do anything to you," Bumlets repeated.

"Knowledge of association is enough," she answered haughtily. "God, Pete, if you were only normal." For a second, she looked less like a crazy psycho bitch and more like a little lost girl. But only a second. Then she hardened again. "People assume that I'm a freak too, since I'm related to a freak."

"That doesn't mean you can pull the stuff you do," Bumlets persisted, and I could almost sense his energy draining. "You just _can't_, Alex."

"I didn't ask to have you for a brother," she burst out, her face, so like his in one aspect, and yet utterly inhuman in another, crumpling up like a paper thrown into an angry flame. She was crying. "I didn't ask for you to be a freak, and for your stupid friends, and for people to talk about you the way they do. I didn't ask for you to be so… perfect and yet so horrible, all at the same time!"

I had to restrain myself from rushing out and shoving her face first into the fucking fountain. What a stupid bitch! Bumlets was one of the nicest people in the universe, and I decided to myself that if he didn't punch her face in, I would spring into action and do it for him.

To my surprise, he opened his arms and pulled her into a hesitant hug. She kept herself aloof for a moment, then slumped forward into his chest, sobbing.

I snuck away, taking the back way through the park and back to my car. I swallowed a lump in my throat. As much as I fucking hated to admit it, I couldn't live like Alexis anymore. I had to take a page from Bumlets' book, instead. Rather than fucking scream about injustices of the world, I had to try and make things right.

And there were two people I owed an explanation to.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed Blink's number while I peeled out of the parking lot. He didn't pick up, so I left a stupid voicemail about needing to tell him something really important and how he really, really had to call me back as soon as possible.

And almost before I knew it, I found myself on Specs' doorstep.

I rang the doorbell and simultaneously ran a hand through my straw-like hair.

His mom answered. She let me in and I headed up the stairs. The nice, carpeted stairs, worn from use. Down the hallway with the floral wallpaper, faded from being on the walls for years. A small hall lamp gave out a friendly, welcoming glow on the table just outside Specs' room. I looked at the photos taped haphazardly to Specs' door, most of them him and myself. I cracked my neck, postponing knocking by fixing my sweatshirt, making sure my shoes were tied.

I finally nodded to myself that I needed to do this, and held up my hand to knock. The door opened a second before my fist actually made contact.

Specs stood expectantly in front of me. "Were you actually going to knock?" he asked, as if in surprise, mocking how I had taken my time. I suddenly remembered that he could see through the keyhole in his old-fashioned lock. I wondered how long he'd known I was there.

"Specs… I'm sorry."

He nodded, as though he had expected this too. "I know," he answered.

I suddenly noticed what he was wearing. "Is that an Angel Santa drag costume?" I asked, impressed at its perfection.

He nodded again. "Debra's helping me make my Halloween costume," he answered, rather dryly. "Can you imagine? We're actually getting along. Apparently she doesn't mind me being a queen if we just pretend that it's for Halloween night only."

"Terrific," I said, smiling at him. "About the costume, I mean. It looks terrific." He nodded. A stupid, stupid silence followed.

"So… did you just come to apologize? Because I have homework to do," he said.

For just a second, he let his hard crust slip, and I saw the vulnerable Specs that I knew hiding behind it. And I found myself loving that damn boy with his fucking hair dye and too-tight outfits and the way that he could wear fishnets like no other man on the planet. "I love you" rushed out of my mouth before I could evaluate the possible outcomes of saying it.

One of Specs' perfect plucked eyebrows suddenly arched higher than the other. "What about Tricia?"

I blanched. "How'd you know?" I asked softly.

"You haven't talked to Blink in forever. Of course I noticed," he answered, looking down at his nails and chipping the polish.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I questioned, feeling stupider than fuck.

He actually laughed. "Oh, God, Dutchy. You always did belittle me and my concern for others and their feelings, didn't you?" He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "Fuck you, Dutchy," he breathed. "Fuck you _for_ belittling me, and fuck you for me still loving you in spite of fucking everything."

"I'm sorry," was all I could say, as I reached out a hand and caught his wrist. "Specs, God, I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a minute. "Now what?" he asked finally, sniffling in a vain attempt to keep his tears at bay. "You fucking hurt me, and I fucking want you anyway."

Letting go of his wrist, I took a chance and stepped closer to him instead, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder, smelling that wonderful Specs scent, the combination of Curve cologne and Dove body soap and aftershave.

"I even missed the smell of your damn stupid sweatshirt," he murmured into my own shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around him tighter in response.

He pulled back a little, and I lifted my head too, looking instead into those eyes, the ones that trusted me and were _real_ and beautiful and sexy and sweet, all at the same time. Our lips met, familiar and comfortable and with the feeling of a broken-in kiss, the kiss that means you won't be hurt ever again, the kiss that cements chaos and certainty together in a marriage that can't be broken. "So are we a thing?" he asked, cocking his head adorably to the side, pursing his lips.

Luckily, I knew the right answer. "Darling, we're everything," I answered, then added, before he could, "Rent, 'I'll Cover You'."

His smile was real as we kissed again.

And I should fucking know.

Because if there's one thing I know, it's fucking Specs. Exactly as it should be.

**i drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door  
i've had you so many times, but somehow i want more  
i don't mind spending every day out on your corner in the pouring rain  
look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while  
and she will be loved, and she will be loved  
tap on my window, knock on my door, i want to make you feel beautiful  
i know i tend to get so insecure, doesn't matter anymore  
it's not always rainbows and butterflies, it's compromise that moves us along  
my heart is full and my door's always open, you can come anytime you want  
**maroon 5's she will be loved

**shoutouts!**

**Queen Kez The Wicked** – Any time you ever feel the need to re-read and re-review my stories, feel free to. I love your reviews every time, and even when they're just recapping your previous feelings, they're so delightful and wonderful and I adore you for your re-reviewingage. Kezala, you are –so- one of my favoritest people in the history of forever.

**Braids21** – Haha, thanks. Actually, hilaRyB and I came up with the "Never fear, Brooklyn's queer!" in a conversation once, and we decided that I must use it. And thus, the best line in the story is written. :) Thanks for reading, and I hope you review more in chapter to come.

**Nakaia Aidan-Sun** – Haha, I would ask about your sister and her Mush snowman but… that was like a year ago. Whoops. I'm glad you liked the last chapter though!

**Mush's Skittles** – Haha, I love how you're all "I HAVEN'T READ THIS CHAPTER!" and you're like… the fourth person, so you obviously weren't too far behind. LOL! Haha, glad you like Adam, because I kinda don't like him. He's a bit of an ass. LOL! But I guess we'll get to that. And much loves to Tim, for finding Adam hot too. Haha! Oh, man, Itts, I'm pretty sure this entire story is just for you, because I'm quite convinced you're the only one who cares about it. (And I feel that I should tell you that, randomly, Running Away by Hoobastank just started playing on my iTunes. Haha! Actually, every Hoobastank song makes me automatically think slash, because they never put genders in, and then I want to write entire epics surrounding their songs. Go go Hoobastank!)

**Pyromaniacal Llama** – I quote you here: "Two updates in three days! Life is good " Guess I started letting you down directly after this post. Haha! And this comment of yours about Spot is perhaps my favorite ever: "So small... so lusted after... so possibly impotent" And yay for chubby black kitties, and thanks for your TERRIFIC review! It makes me laugh aloud and be happy even now, over a year later. …Because I rock at updating. Yes.

**Strawberri Shake** – Thanks for the review! Bwaha, I will not expose my secrets about the pairings to come. Basically because I have no idea myself. But we won't go into that… haha. Thanks for the review! :)

**Sinhe** – I think we all have wanted, at some time or other, to say ::gasp:: SLUT! And I'm glad my story gave you the needed opportunity. XD And uh, I know you said "more soon," but that could somehow be translated into "more a year later," right? XD Thanks for your amusing review, darling.

**CapitalPunishment** – Phantom will probably be in here somewhere. I mean, chances are Specs will get around to it sometime, right? Right. And, haha, I swear, it wasn't REALLY supposed to be all slashy. It's just an unfortunate side effect of being… me. Anyhow. Thanks for reviewing!

**Aura** – Who doesn't like Jason Mraz? LOL! Thanks for the review.

**Fifi** – I –would- do a Mush chapter soon, if I were going to do one at all. I don't think I am, though. But I promise to resolve the Mush/Blinkness soon. Soonish. Haha!

**Cards** – Bumlets' and Race's families are my favorites, too. :D I like big families, and close-knit ones. So there ya go. Thanks for the review hon! Hearts!

**Artemis-chan of Redwing** – I figured I needed to have at least some of the boys be as horny as all the boys were at MY high school, haha! And really, this time I'm not dead! Really! Thanks for your review. :)

**Bobcat:slashgoil** – Haha, thanks for agreeing with me on the anti-Adamness! Hehe. He's not my favorite character ever, either. He'll be back, and we'll hate him more. Woo! Something to look forward to! LOL.

**Falco Conlon** – Thanks for reading from chapter 4! ::loves:: I'm sorry I didn't update so that all your reading-catching-upness was wasted. :( But I still love (and waffle) you! I adored your reviews and your hatred of Alexis throughout them. Consistensy, thy name is Falco.

**Checkmate** – Thanks! :)

**Gryffin Parker** – Ahaha your review makes me happy. ! And you have to give back abt!specs, because… he lives in the story. But I do rent him out. Which is really the reason why it's taken a year to write this chapter, because he left me so long ago and I just couldn't find him anymore. Sigh.

**Broadway1** – Ah, Kimi, how I love you and your JFK obsession! Someday I will try to write him in something just for you. ! Love you, girlie!!

**Kattabean** – I adore you. Just so you know. !

**Rumor** – Hey, even a late review from you is still a super-wondrous thing! Haha. I love your reviews so much! (They remind me what I wrote when I need to write the next chapter. LOL!) I always love hearing from you… hope you find this chapter. :D

**Gothic Author** – I love you and your review even though I'm fairly certain it got cut off but it doesn't matter because I love you so much!!! :D :D :D –adores-

**Skrawl** – Thanks. :) Eh, who cares about parents anyway? They're rather uninvolved in their children's lives, I suppose. Well, Bumlets' family just has too many children to deal with, Race's dad is busy being a single working parent, Specs' mom isn't invited in Specs' life… there can be lots of reasons! LOL. Imagination is key with this one… thanks for the review!

**Frogger No Baka** – And I adore you for catching up! And I love you! Where have you been, dear?!

**i-nv-u50 **– Sorry it took so long to update! But thanks for the review!!

**Geometrygal** – I luffle Logan too. :D I love your review too! It's so amusing to read. XD -loves you!- How have you been?! I miss talking to you… -sniff-

**Dreamless-Mermaid** – Thanks for your sweet review! :) And I know it took forever to update… but thanks for reading it even though it appeared abandoned.

**Saturday** – Though your review didn't save fully and I don't know what your favorite parts are after chapter 1's, haha, I appreciate the gesture. :D Thanks for reading all the way through! And I'm glad you like Pinhead, he's definitely my favorite OC that I've made. Or at least in the top 5. :D Thanks for the review!

**I'll see you guys in another year for the next chapter. Haha, hopefully just hoping. !! Please review. Thanks, love and flowers and sparkles and abt!specs in an outfit of your choice to all reviewers as a thank-you gift!**


	11. chapter eleven: mush

**(anything but that)**

(by mondie)

(started on may 4, 2003)

**(disclaimer:** Mondie owns Pinhead. Disney and respective families own the newsies. Their portrayal is Mondie's, and the dialogue and plot are Mondie's. But don't sue me. The characters actually belong to Disney. Disney. DISNEY. Not Mondie. Disney.

therapist!skittery: You're getting good at that.

Mondie: I know.

**(chapter eleven: mush)**

(chapter written: february 5, 2005)

* * *

Chapter warning: …This chapter was written while I was hating on straight boys. So since I decided I hate all straight boys, I couldn't leave any of my favey-davey characters straight. …I don't know how these things happen to my stories. Really, I don't.

* * *

Thursday, October 2, 2003

I woke up with a smile on my face. There was bright meringue-yellow sunlight streaming through my window – or there would have been, had my window faced the sun – and my red plastic radio alarm clock was playing "Embraceable You," Sinatra's version, and I had just talked to Cowboy last night and he had decided that I got to be in charge of decorating for the rally on Saturday! AKA purple streamers with plum balloons and silver accents, ooh classy! And I had talked to Adam on the phone for a little while too, and he kept complimenting me and my ass, and so that was super fantastic too!

I walked over to my window, threw up the white blinds dyed yellow with morning sun trying to shine through, and beamed at the loveliness of the day.

And came face to face with something I really hadn't been planning on.

I pulled open my window and stuck my head out, confused. "Blink?"

He jumped guiltily, and nearly fell from his precarious perch on his rooftop. He gave me a little sheepish smile. "I was hoping you'd get up soon," he said softly.

I climbed out onto my roof too, although I was still just wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants and the air was getting a little chillier now that it's October. I sat too and looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear what was wrong. Blink hates coming to his dad's house, and the only time he comes voluntarily is when he needs advice from me.

(I keep hoping that he will someday soon ask for advice about coming out of the closet. But that's because I'm hopelessly optimistic.)

"It's just…" he started, then broke off, staring at me. I became a little self-conscious, which I usually don't do, and I think that was when I knew something was _really_ wrong. I suddenly noticed that his hair was uncombed, and he was wearing the same clothes (green long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans) as he had yesterday. He kinda shrugged at me. "Can you come over here? I… I just don't want to shout it across the roofs."

Feeling incredibly insensitive for not perceiving this from the get-go, I did my well-practiced gazelle leap across to his roof, landing heavily at his feet. He held out a hand to help me scramble up beside him, and when I was situated, he still held my hand.

Blink has never done that before. _Ever_.

I stared at him quizzically; I couldn't help it! And he looked sorta embarrassed, but he didn't let go of my hand. Instead, he gripped at my fingers harder. I gave his hand a little squeeze back, a reassuring squeeze, a let-go-of-my-hand-before-I-read-more-into-this-than-you-will-appreciate squeeze. He didn't take the hint, and didn't loosen his grip on my hand. I felt the familiar pull of my stomach, that little flip-flop that happens when he gets too close to me, and I wished he wouldn't do this to me, because he knows how I feel and he knows how hard it is for me and I know that none of the stuff he does means as much to him as it does to me.

Ignoring the euphoric voice in my head that was shouting hallelujahs at the fact that Blink was clutching my hand, I cleared my throat and said a little cautiously, "Blink, I don't –"

He shot out his other arm and grabbed my far shoulder with it, twisting my torso to face his. I was bewildered. This was so unlike him.

Even more unlike him? When he squinted his eyes shut and pushed his lips onto mine.

…Okay. Even _I_ knew that this could not be good. But I kinda wanted to pretend it was, ya know? Especially when his hands moved to splay themselves on my chest, and I could feel each of his fingers gripping at my bare skin like it was something he needed. He pushed against me until I was lying back on the roof, and he was on top of me, and I wasn't even sure that I wasn't dreaming at this point. The shingles dug into my back and his hair was in my face and he was kissing kissing kissing my lips and my jaw and my neck. And this time, I didn't have to take off his shirt; he pulled it off himself, throwing it off the roof somewhere. My feet braced against the gutter so that we didn't slide off.

His skin was so, so smooth. I laughingly traced the farmer's tan lines upon his bicep, marveling at how everything about him was so excellent, then I kissed his shoulder, biting it lightly so that he squirmed. Grinning, I let my hands indulge in tracing circles upon his back. His mouth stopped roaming and became reattached to mine. I didn't mind at all, not even a little bit. He let me put my tongue in his mouth, and as I began to learn my way around its inside, I became aware of a rather personal area simultaneously getting a little… excited. Apparently Blink noticed too, because for a moment his hands became still from their restless searching of my body, and he stopped responding to my kisses, just for a split second, as if out of confusion.

Then I could feel him untying my drawstrings.

My head spun, and I became less aware of everything else in the world. The shingles in my back were now nonexistent, and it's certainly a good thing my legs were locked with my feet against that gutter, because all thoughts of our precarious balancing were out of my mind within seconds. All I was aware of was Blink's tongue mingling with mine, and his helping hand, and his tight ass, which was where my hands had chosen to land and grab onto.

When I came, he seemed a little bit surprised, and pulled slightly away.

Not wanting to let him go, I leaned up after him, kissing his cheek, licking at the corner of his mouth. "Blink," I breathed. "I don't know how it is when you do it, but… that's _supposed_ to happen."

He smiled then, a sort of sad, embarrassed smile, and then I understood.

"Shit," I moaned, staring at him. "Please, _please_, Blink…"

He moved back closer again, but I noticed how he avoided climbing back on top of me. He kissed me again, perhaps even with more emphasis than before, but I pushed him away.

"Do _not_ fuck with me, Blink," I said, staring into his eyes. "If it's gonna hurt me in the long run, I'd rather you didn't do it at all."

He answered by kissing me _again_.

Too bad the kid is just about the best kisser in the entire world. I rolled over onto my side, and he pulled me to him, lying beside me, and now the shingles pressed into my side, but even they didn't cut through to my brain as much as the feeling of him in my arms did. His toes began teasing at mine, and I lost myself in the kiss for a little bit too long, then I pulled away again.

"Blink, seriously, I'm not joking," I said, trying very hard to convince my own mind that I was being truthful. He kissed at my jaw, and it was very hard to remember what my point was, exactly. Then I hit the right idea. "Blink, do you think you're gay?"

That made him pause, finally, and I could shake my head a little and reorganize my thoughts.

He finally shrugged. "What does it matter?" he whispered throatily into my ear, punctuating with his tongue, making my breathing speed up and all coherent thoughts fly out of my head again. "You're the only person who's ever really loved me, Mush. So what does it even matter, what I am?"

I started to say that it mattered to me, but he started kissing me again. And good _Lord_, he can kiss. Suddenly, he stood up and stepped through his window, putting a hand on my arm and pulling me along with him. Before I knew what was going on, exactly, he had pushed me down on his bed and then had lain down beside me.

He looked so serious, staring at me. "I really need this, Mush," he said. "You're the only person I've ever known who can always make stuff okay. So make everything okay." He was wearing those faded, pretty jeans, and he leaned down and began unbuttoning the fly.

I don't usually have to be told twice. This was no exception.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I lay my head on his chest and attempted to ignore the shouts from my mother in my house. "Micah! Are you over at Blink's? You have school today, mister, you had better get your ass back over here before I come after you and bruise it myself!"

Rolling my eyes, I rolled off the bed and grabbed one of Blink's t-shirts that was on his floor and pulled it over my head. I leaned out his window. "We're going to school in a second," I shouted back to her. She raised her eyebrows at me from where she was standing inside my room. I raised mine right back. She began drumming her fingernails on my windowsill. Finally I leaned a little further out and stage-whispered, "Blink needs some advice, I'm just helping him out. We'll go to school in a second."

"Micah, if I get word that you've skipped another day—" she began in her most maternal voice, her fingernail pace speeding up to twice as fast.

I gave her my most angelic smile, followed by blowing her a kiss. "I love you!" I sang. Then I shut Blink's window and pulled down the Venetian blinds.

He smiled, almost shyly, as I climbed back under his covers and snuggled close to him. "Would you mind if I called you Micah?" he asked softly. "It's just… I dunno, Mush is such a young name. I think you're finally starting to grow into a Micah."

I grinned. "Does this mean I get to call you Treeflower?"

His eye narrowed. "No. And don't you try to sneak it in, either. Or else."

"Or else what?" I teased, tracing his side with one finger.

He leaned down and kissed me. I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over my head, and smiled to myself when I noticed Blink noticing my body. "You know that you're… y'know… beautiful," he mumbled.

I laughed at him. "Why, Blink, I think that was almost a compliment!" I grinned, before leaning up and kissing him again.

"…I have to tell you something," he whispered a minute later.

I nodded. I had been waiting for it.

"Dutchy called me last night," he said, and then he stopped, as if this explained everything. I rolled my eyes and bit his elbow. Sometimes Blink's a little out of it. He glared at me, and rubbed ruefully at his elbow – wuss – and then turned away from me. "He said that… that he and … Tricia… oh, God, Micah. Dutchy has been sleeping with Tricia."

Micah suddenly did sound a lot older than Mush all of a sudden, and I really wished that he'd go back to calling me Mush. Mush could have come up with an answer, something that made sense and would make everything better. Micah had no idea of what to tell his best friend.

"Oh, Blink," I said, my heart sinking.

He was crying. He was trying to hide it, but he never was very good at acting. "The really bad part is…" I cringed, waiting for his newly-realized regrets about him and myself. But when he rolled back to face me, I was surprised to see a little bit of laughter hiding behind his tears in his eye. "The worst part is, when Dutchy told me, I just felt…" He paused, trying to find the word.

"Betrayed?" I suggested. "Hurt? Shocked?"

He shook his head, and now his mirth was evident. "Relieved."

I rolled my eyes. "You were not, you lying asshole."

Now he was laughing outright. "I really was, Micah. I swear."

"But…" I was at a loss. "But Tricia's perfect for you! She was so pretty and funny and pure…" I thought for a moment. "Well, until she started screwing Dutchy, that is."

He shook his head. "Nope."

He wasn't making sense anymore. "Nope what?" I asked, staring at him.

"She wasn't as pure as I kinda led you to believe," he answered. "…Don't you get it? She _wanted_ to have sex. But I…" He suddenly let out a howl of laughter. "I couldn't keep it up!"

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I asked. None of this conversation made sense. "You were fine just a little while ago."

He nodded at me. "I know." He shrugged. "So that's really making me think. Y'know?"

I blinked. "So… wait a minute. You couldn't keep an erection when around your girlfriend of about a bajillion years, even when she wanted to have sex with you? And yet when it's you and me…"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah."

"Oh." I stared at him.

"So what does this mean?" he asked. One of his fingers was playing with my curls. I loved that feeling.

"Well. You know how I feel about you," I answered. "How I've felt about you for a long time."

He nodded. "I'm just… I wish I was as sure as you are, but… how am I supposed to know what feelings are real anymore? I _thought_ that I was gonna be with Tricia for like the rest of my life. And now…"

I climbed on top of him underneath his dark blue sheets, and I gently leaned down and kissed him. I'd read in books of really great kisses, where they explained how they were feeling and communicated through the kiss. I don't know if it worked when I tried it, but that's what I was attempting to do to him. I wanted him to know how I'd keep him safe, how I'd never hurt him the way that stupid Tricia had. I wanted to let him know that I would worship him, that I would worship every cell making up his seraphic body. I wanted to let him know that I adored the way his smile lit up his entire face, the way his hair got in my mouth when we kissed, the way his arms felt around me – the way I'd always imagined they would. I wanted to let him know that this was my fantasy come true, and that there was no way I would let the fantasy slip from my fingers when it was finally coming true. But most of all, I wanted him to know that I loved him, that I loved him with my entire heart and soul and mind.

I think it might have worked.

When I pulled away, he was just kinda gaping after me, and when he exhaled, it was all shaky and uncertain. "…Wow," he breathed. His hand clenched at my quad muscle in my thigh, and he clutched it like it was the only thing keeping him alive or something. "Just… wow."

"Does this mean I have to cancel my date with Adam next Friday?" I asked, batting my eyes innocently.

His arms immediately snaked around my torso, pulling me close to him, knitting our limbs together. "You'd better," he answered. "I'm not sharing you with anyone."

And seriously, the day only got better from there.

* * *

Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention that we never got to school that day. Cowboy said they didn't miss us, that the strike was continuing beautifully and that he had gotten the word out to all of the schools in the area.

We didn't miss them, either.

* * *

embrace me, my sweet embraceable you  
embrace me, you irreplaceable you  
just one look at you - my heart grew tipsy in me  
you and you alone bring out the Gypsy in me  
i love all the many charms about you  
above all, i want my arms about you  
don't be a naughty baby  
come to mama, come to mama do  
my sweet embraceable you  
(frank sinatra, "embraceable you")

* * *

**Shoutouts!**

**THANKS TO ALL OF MY LOVERS! The song of the moment is "Wig In A Box" from Hedwig. Put it on and rock out. Okay, thank you for pretending to indulge of my fantasy of people besides me rocking out to "Wig In A Box."**

**Geometrygal** )( Have I mentioned that I adore your reviews? Because I do. And look! You were right about more than just evol-slut!Tricia! Bwaha. Erm. This chapter was written while I was emo about straight boys and decided that I could not have one of my favorite characters possibly be a straight boy. Then the boys went insane and were like bunnies and I just couldn't keep them apart. shrugs? Aha. LOVES TO YOU!

**Braids21** )( Aha yay for squeals! Thanks for reading :) Look, it only took me like… a little over a month… haha. Slightly better than a year, at any rate. :D

**Mush's Skittles** )( You are just my favorite. No way around it. I glomp you eternally. :D

**Studentnumber24601** )( B, I LOVE YOU! And you're one to talk about my having lovely writing, lol, as your writing's about fifty bajillion times better than mine! …And there. Resolution feeling better? (Does this mean I can officially leave this story forever and never finish it now:D)

**Queen Kez The Wicked** )( Kezala… you are so fantastic. I just love you like w0:D You are like my favoritefavorite ever. And here-gives you Bumlets- You can sex him up just as much as you like, really. :D

**Omni** )( I just love you even more. –snuggles-

**ThumbsuckerSnitch** )( Lutells, it is always such a victory to me when I get a review from you, since you… never leave them… haha! I LOVE THEE, Cutells! And bwaha, I will make you "aw" when you least expect it. Because I am hardcore.

**The Second Batgirl** )( Hm. Only one. And part of another. BECAUSE I WIN:D If this chapter sucks, I blame you and B for not steering me in a different direction. Bwaha! –lovesyou-

**Pyromaniacal Llama** )( Ahaha! –loves on you- Thanks so much for the lovely, lovely review :D And the story just keeps getting racier and racier, I dunno, these boys kill me. They insist upon doing things their own ways. I'm like "I have a plot idea!" And Race, sitting in the corner, just laughs and says "Yeah. We outvoted you. Twenty to one. Better luck next time." Tis sad when even your characters are more imaginative than you are… :ahem: Anyway.

**Sinhe** )( Aha, I love when you abuse your caps ;) Hehe! And yes, Bumlets really is starting to come out of his movie!shell… really, he wasn't supposed to become so major… eh. None of these boys listen to me anymore. :D Anyhow! –loves on you like WHOA-

**Gothic Author** )( YAY! To hear Rent is to love it. Unless you are my friend Patrick, who identifies most with –BENNY- and only likes "Light My Candle" and "Over The Moon." …Yes. Patrick rather loses at the whole Rent-love ness. XD I LOVE YOU TOO! And you know that wherever I can, I put in double meaning. So of course that was double meaning. :D Haha! You might have been the only one to catch that, which makes me love you thirty bajillion times more. Hahaha! –LOVES-

**DreamlessMermaid **)( Thanks hon:) I'm glad that Specs and Dutchy finally agreed to get back together too, GOD they were annoying me. LOL. :D

**Broadway1** )( Ahh guess what! My friend Dave is thinking about coming to work at Cedar Point with us too! Ahaha. He makes me laugh. He will have to change his grooming habits if he does, lol, and I have never seen him without his huge bushy beard, so it will be the funniest thing EVER. Hehe! YAY I'm super excited for this summer! I've been talking to some of the people who are working in Area 2 Foods with me, and we're already setting up movie nights and stuff. :D YAY! I miss talking to youuu! And as soon as I get a damn paycheck, I'll send your package to you!

**Twilight-maiden** )( Thanks! Haha. yes I rock at the cheesy aw-worthy dialogue. Hehe! Thanks for reading :D

**Charlie Bird** )( Thanks for reading! And it's quite possible. But for now, I'm letting the characters have a little bit of fun. They deserve at least a –little- bit. :D Thanks for the review, hon!


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